


A Night to Remember...

by elven_prophecy, Lexma12345, thebeastinsideusall



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Asphyxiation, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Cunnilingus, Daedra Machination, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Darkness, Deepthroating, Dominance, Dream Sex, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing, Molestation, Nudity, Parenthood, Rough handling, Scars, Sex, Size Difference, Stalking, Swearing, Teasing, Transformation, Uncontrollable Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-05-03 22:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 31,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elven_prophecy/pseuds/elven_prophecy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexma12345/pseuds/Lexma12345, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeastinsideusall/pseuds/thebeastinsideusall
Summary: Drunken mischief...Despite the title, it's not what you're going to think...but that's the fun part.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My daughter suggested I keep writing, and since I can't seem to continue Song of a Lifetime (my partner and I keep missing each other so having issues discussing it and massive writer's block which I blame her for lol) she figured I should write a different one until I can get past the hump... and maybe just use this as therapy as pretty depressed these days. 
> 
> So, i'm going back to old faithful lol Different DB (with a name this time lol) but basically the same Alduin, in looks anyways, we'll see how he develops this time. I'm using same lore as before, except this time Alduin knows and does transform into an Atmoran (though he's defined as a Nord, he's really Atmoran). I said I would write more Alduin stories, so here it is. 
> 
> Comments highly appreciated. Enjoy!

###  Chapter 1

    The flames in the Bannered Mare danced softly to the tunes of Mikael as the words of Ragnar the Red fell from his lips merrily.  Methas sat on the longbench closest to the bar, minding her own business and contemplating her last contract.

    The patrons of the bar pretty much ignored her, except for a fellow named Sam that was trying to start a ridiculous conversation about some drinking contest.  He was dismissed. She was staring hard into the fire, her mind elsewhere when a long shadow fell over her. 

    She rolled her amber eye upward without moving in her seat only to find Mikael standing over her, a charming smile on his full lips.  

    “Has anyone ever told you, you have beautiful eyes?” he purred, with a voice like honey, and then corrected himself as he realized she only had one. “I meant eye?”

    Her twisted lips lifted briefly from behind her mask as she slowly reached up and removed her Brotherhood cowl.  Her smile widened as the blood drained from his face. She enjoyed this reaction that was typical Nord behaviour.  He’d just complimented a heavily scarred, one-eyed Bosmer.

    He cleared his throat awkwardly and immediately took his leave.  It never ceased to amuse her at how narrow minded the locals were, though Mikael being one did surprise her mildly.  He was a man whore after all.

    She ate her supper, adjusted her mask back into place and got up to leave.  

    And there.  

    Right there.

    Her eye caught a glimmer of red, from a shadowed corner.  The man that sat alone at the table, seemed as though he was surrounded by black smoke.  A dark hood hid most of his features in darkness except those eyes that glowed red. 

    That’s not a Dunmer trait, was the first thing that popped in her head, and the second thing…

    Contract.

    She broke eye contact and she left the Bannered Mare, the strange man from the bar forgotten.  

***********

It was nightfall by the time she reached the Sanctuary in Falkreath, she’d barely stopped after she’d killed Beitild in Dawnstar.  As she walked through the Black Door, she could hear voices echoing off the damp walls. 

Her lips twitched behind her cowl as she heard a cheerful voice she recognized immediately.  

Cicero.

The twitch became a small grin (though no one could see it).

He’d finally come.

“Merry met my friend!” she called as she trotted towards her family, “How was your journey?”

Cicero’s wild eyed stare found hers and a huge smile befitted the fool.

“Methas!” he squealed, clapping his hands together quickly, “Mother and I have missed you so!  We have! We have! We have!”

“Any tales to tell?” she asked, ignoring the others as they gawked at her.  

“Oh yes!” he squawked in a high pitched voice, “Poor Cicero was ignored when that wagon wheel broke!  That dreaded wagon wheel!” he took a deep breath and continued, “Loreius refused poor Cicero aid…” the fool trailed off and then a slow, dark smile spread across his mouth, “That swine will never do that again!” Cicero cackled, “We took his eyes and hands we did!  Oh!!!” he exclaimed suddenly, and then reached into a pocket to pull out a small, bloodied canvas sack, “Here! I kept the eyes for you!” he handed the sack to her.

She immediately stashed the small bag in her own pack and smiled gratefully at the crazed jester.  He was one of the few that knew her dark past and the secrets she kept to herself. She intended to keep it that way.

“Spiced wine for eyes?” she queried, an eyebrow arched.

“Oh yes indeed!” Cicero sang, “You spoil dear Cicero!  You do!”

    She smiled a genuine smile behind her mask and held up one finger, indicating Cicero to wait a moment as she dashed into the dining hall to receive her pay for the last few contracts that Nazir had sent her on.

    By the time she returned, the others had disbanded and she noticed Festus being the one that remained to chit chat with the jester.  Her ears twitched as she heard them discussing the old ways, while Astrid rolled her eyes at them and stalked away.

    She’d cashed in fifteen hundred gold for the 3 contracts she had turned in to Nazir.  The Redguard had congratulated her on jobs well done and had handed her the money without further ado.

    “We’ll take a carriage to Solitude,” Methas spoke up once Festus left them.  

    “Solitude?” the jester squeaked in surprise.

    “Best spiced wine this side of the border,” she winked her eye at him.  He clapped his hands again and danced with glee.

    “Dear Cicero is so excited!  Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

***********

The Winking Skeever was practically empty when they finally arrived.  The journey had been utterly uneventful and she’d laughed as Cicero divulge the secrets to healthy skin (he ought to know, the Night Mother had never looked better since he’d taken over) was nothing more than a honey/Nightshade mixture.

He’d kept his jester outfit when she had insisted they hit Radiant Raiment’s.  She’d changed into a blood red dress with white sleeves and removed her mask, she wasn’t self- conscious (battle scars, after all, were a badge of honour in Nordic society), it was her Bosmer heritage that made her feel shunned.

    Her keen senses remarked that Sam (the same one from the Bannered Mare) was already at the counter regaling the bartender as they entered.  Her eyes narrowed with consideration, but she disregarded him as he looked completely wasted. 

    She dragged Cicero to the second floor balcony (her favourite place) and as they took their seat, Corpulus came up and brought her usual bottle of San’s spiced wine.  

    “Divines preserve my sanity,” he sighed heavily, engaging in a small bit of gossip with her, “That drunken idiot at my bar hasn’t shut up since he walked in hours ago.”

    She smirked, “Still talking about that staff, is he?”

    Corpulus rolled his eyes. “Oh, has he ever…”

    She chuckled quietly and tossed him ten septims for the wine. “Keep the change,” she grinned at him.

    “Thank you, milady,” the bartender nodded and left her and Cicero alone.  

    She filled two goblets and passed one to a beaming jester.

    He drank his in one gulp and then had a bad coughing fit as the spices came back and kicked his ass.  She shook her head and burst out laughing as Cicero jumped to his feet and made a dash for the pot that was between the two rooms.

    He practically put his head in the hole and she heard him retching.  Another burst of giggles escaped her unintentionally.

    “Oh poor Cicero wasn’t expecting that,” he muttered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

    “Not a word,” she whispered as he came back to sit at the table, “Drink it slow next time.”

    “It burned my throat!” Cicero exclaimed and then peered at her with suspicious eyes, “This is revenge for Cyrodiil, isn’t it?”

    She chuckled more and shook her head, “No, Cicero, you’ll know when I come for you, for that one…”

The incident, as it was commonly known back when she had been in Cyrodiil, had happened when Cicero had “accidently” fed her a concoction that had been supposedly for the Night Mother.  Milk, honey, plums being the three main ingredients, combined, it was a super power of a laxative.

    It hit at the worst possible times as well.  She had failed her contract, they smelled her coming...and she had spent the remainder of the night sitting on a bucket of snow (thankfully, it had been winter in Cyrodiil).  Cicero had laughed his merry head off for weeks after the incident, she swore revenge, but the time was not right.

    They laughed most of the night away and since she was treating Cicero to the night out, she was the one to remain  _ sober _ .  Cicero was three sheets to the winds when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck straightened.  

    Her eyes were drawn immediately towards the entrance of the tavern at the same time that the door swung open.  She stiffened uncontrollably and her eyes widened a margin. Her long ears twitched nervously as the sound of heavy boots reached her above all other noise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chance encounter :) And a night she doesn't remember...  
> Enter Chaos now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech is bolded as usual. This is my lore :) Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

### Chapter 2

    Standing in the light of the pub, stood an imposing figure.  A sense of recognition washed over her as glowing, red eyes immediately locked onto her.  Her heartbeat increased in speed and a burst of adrenaline came over her. Her hand found the hilt of her dagger that she had secreted in her leather boots.

    The man was huge (she knows that to Bosmers EVERYONE is huge, but in this case, she was not making an understatement).  He was easily over seven feet tall (he’d ducked when he had entered, and she had _noticed_ ).  To make him even more intimidating (cause, you know, he wasn’t... Insert eye roll here), he was covered in a pitch black heavy armour that she did not recognize (she had a good eye when it came to gear, thanks to Brynjolf’s pillow talk).  

    It had a familiar look to it though… (where had she seen that before…?).  A long, tattered black cloak hung behind him, almost touching the ground. There was _two_ curved, tall, black horns coming out of each shoulder, that were almost at eye-level to him, three more horns, each progressively smaller than the last trailed halfway down his bicep.  The chest of the armour were huge, black dragon scales that also steadily got smaller as they swept down his body. This was definitely not the typical dragon armour she had ever seen.

    Even the boots and claws (for that is what those gauntlets had for fingers), weren’t like anything she’d come across in _all_ her travels, until now.  

    His face, uncovered this time (she knew she’d had seen him somewhere before... those eyes...), was unlike any Nords she’d ever come across (actually he looked like a hybrid mixture of Nord and Dunmer).  His skin was as white as snow, shoulder length hair darker than ebony. A thick scar ran down the left side of his jawline from ear to mouth, while a thin one slashed down, breaking a narrow, curved black eyebrow in half (also the left).  

    She couldn’t see the darkness that had almost engulfed him before, but there definitely was an aura of danger surrounding his very presence.  

    It seemed they had been staring at each other for hours (in fact barely a minute had passed), her hand shot out toward Cicero (he had passed out on the table, snoring quite loudly and drooling).  She grabbed a handful of the jester’s light armour in her hand and shook him briskly.

    “...I’m coming, Mother…” Cicero mumbled, and then he gasped suddenly as the chair was kicked out from beneath him.

    “Wake up,” she hissed, her eye never leaving the stranger until he broke contact deliberately by walking towards the bar.  You could hear a nail drop (not that the Skeever was packed full…). Her teeth gritted as she heard the bar stool skid across the floor as though her head was right beside it.       

    Sam, who had been quite the chatterbox, had went silent as the grave.  

    “Poor Cicero was having such a wonderful dream!” he whined at her, “Mother was talking to me!  I was the Listener! Poor, poor Cicero!” he wailed and actually looked like he was about to cry.

    “Only in your dreams, Cicero,” she snapped, “Get to your senses, trouble.”

    That did it.  That one word killed the drunk and Cicero transformed before her very eye.  His jovial attitude darkened, and he dropped to a crouching position.

    “Who?” he mouthed.  Cicero had long ago accepted that she could hear him whisper clear across a crowded room and had mastered the art of silent speaking, barely breathing the words.

    She motioned downwards, pointing at their feet.

    “Bartender?” another mouthed word.  She shook her head. “Customer?” his lips formed the word.

    She nodded once and placed a finger to her lips.  As much as she wanted to kill the stranger (he utterly unnerved her), she was not equipped for the job, and Cicero’s specialty could not be used competently in a well lit tavern.

    “Run?” he mouthed.       

    She nodded again and he rolled his eyes at her.  

    Cicero led them slowly down the stairs, and they paused at the base of the stairs.  There was only one exit unfortunately, and it was directly across from the bar. The jester was surprisingly light on his feet, and dashed silently towards the door.  The stranger apparently did not notice as his back was to the exit.

    Methas took a deep, calming breath and tried to still her nerves.  Cicero had escaped easy enough, her sneak was just as good as his and she wasn’t in her armour.  She ran anxious hands down her thighs and in turn ran for the door.

    She almost stumbled on her dress, leaving her a little unbalanced and before she fell on her face, a sharp pain erupted in her arm and she was wrench upward and backwards.  The breath was knocked out of her lungs as she hit what she thought at first was the wall.

    It wasn’t.

    She glanced over her shoulder and came nose to...is that a chest plate?  She blinked a couple of times and poked it with curiousity, oblivious to the hand crushing her forearm.  She swallowed nervously and looked up….and up, and _up_.  Her neck craned as far back as possible (it kinda hurt).

   They really _were_ glowing red eyes and by Sithis...he was scary looking.  With him looking down at her, darkness played across his defined features, shadowing his eyes, enhancing his glowing effect.  Fear and something else (he _was_ a _fine_ specimen) washed over her, followed by a chill that danced along her spine, causing gooseflesh to form.

   “Uh....hi?” she murmured, her voice unsure.  This stranger couldn’t very well kill her in public...could he?

   His gorgeous lips thinned in disgust, as he looked her up and down, but remained silent.  

   The sleeve of her dress (the one he was gripping), she noticed, felt heavier and she chanced a look at it, breaking eye contact, and found it soaked with her own blood.  She blinked again and cleared her throat.

    “Do you mind?” she licked her lips.  He sneered and released her.

    “We will meet again, **Dragonborn** ,” he growled, the sound low in his throat.  His voice sent a frisson through her body that felt like she was hit with a lightning spell.   

    She flinched in pain and backed away from him slowly, keeping her eye on his stock still figure that made everything around him small.  She pushed the door of the tavern open with her butt and ran for the main gates.

    Cicero was waiting for her by the carriage, a frown on his face.

    “What happened?!” he shrieked in concern as his eyes locked onto her arm.  She didn’t reply and jumped into the back of the wagon.

    “Falkreath,” she threw a pouch of gold at the driver, “Like yesterday!” she hissed as Cicero climbed into the wagon.

    “Cicero needs to know who did this to you,” he tried again, “I will peel the flesh from his bones.”

    She snorted and held her hand out just as the carriage jostled forward. “Potion.”

    He gave her a potion of minor healing and she tossed it back as though it were ale.  She grimaced as she tasted the nastiness that was swamp fungal pod mixed with imp stool. (Anything with the word ‘stool’ in it was bound to be gross.)  

    Though it made her gag inwardly, she sighed in relief as her wounds mended.  Her thoughts were agitated as it dawned on her that the stranger had called to her in the dragon tongue.  

    Who was he?  

    She would have pondered this longer had Cicero not plopped beside her and removed his hat.  There, balancing on his head, was a bottle of spiced wine. He grabbed it, winked at her, and pulled the cork out with his teeth.

    “Oh by the Divines, Cicero!  You’re my hero!” she chuckled as he handed her the bottle and she took a good swig of it.  The booze settled her nerves somewhat.

    “I have to stop at the stables,” the driver called over his shoulder, “My horse lost a shoe,” he muttered, and then added, “Don’t want to lame the old girl.”

    “That’s fine,” she responded, handing the bottle to Cicero.  The driver nodded.

    “Didn’t you say yesterday though?” Cicero queried, giving her the wine.  She shrugged, the uneasiness disappeared as they suddenly laughed again.

    “Fuck that asshole,” she muttered, “He’s not chasing _me_ out of town!”   

    Cicero cackled and they continued to drink (the jester had actually somehow managed to steal an astounding five bottles of spice wine) until both of them were leaning heavily on each other, surrounded by empty wine bottles.  

    “Ash-treed is a b—,” Cicero burbed in the middle of the word and then continued as though he hadn’t interrupted himself, “—itch.  Mother, oh sh-weet, sh-weet Mother, she sees,” Cicero slurred. “You see! She sh-ees!” He held up a finger, pointed at the skies.

    “What are you doing?” Methas rolled her eye towards him, feeling really good at this point.  He slowly lowered his finger and looked sheepish.

    “Cicero forget.”

    She giggled, and found that he was actually adorable ( _Cicero_?!) when he looked like that.  She frowned as something inside her gut tried to make her stop, but she had already started to move her head and she was past the point of no return already (and this is why we never mix work with drink…).

    Their lips made contact and she felt Cicero freeze and tense (facepalm).  She licked at the seam of his lips, seeking entry into his mouth. Her eye closed and his mouth cracked open to gulp in a mouthful of air.  

    She took it as an invitation and her tongue plundered his mouth.  Licking at his tongue, nibbling at his lower lip. It was at this point that Cicero conceded, and she felt one of his hand coming up to tangle into her short hair, the other went around her waist and pulled her close to his body.  

   And there they sat in the carriage, pawing at each other when the driver cleared his throat. “Would you like a room instead of a ride?”

    That was the last thing she remembered before awakening the next day, naked, in a unfamiliar bedroll.  Covered in straw (it was even in her hair), surrounded by the sound of horses. She blinked as she stared at the roof of the stables, a frown maring her forehead.  What had happened…?

    Her eye widened dramatically when she felt a hand touch her breast and a hairy thigh came over her leg. “Oh Mother, you’re so warm tonight…” she heard the _clear_ voice of Cicero in her ear, mumbling as though in sleep.   

    Oh…

    Oh….no….

    What...had...she...done…?

    She sat up in the barn and shrieked at the top of her lungs.  Unrelenting Force exploding from her lips for the first time in years (there was no one in front of her, thank the Divines for small mercies).  

    Cicero awoke then and started shrieking as he saw her beside him.  His hand still at her breast, they both glanced down at it and he yanked it back as though burned.

    “For shame!” he gasped like an indignant maiden, “Pretending to be Mother so poor Cicero would be unfaithful!” he moaned.

    “As I recall,” she peered at him grabbing her clothes, “You were the one—”

    He cut her off. “No!  Please! Don’t say it.”

    She dressed herself quickly (in her assassin’s gear no less....where was her dress?  She didn’t remember going to Radiant Raiment’s...) while he did the same, his eyes roaming over her body in a way he probably thought she hadn’t noticed. “You know—” he began, but it was her turn to interrupt him.

    “No, Cicero,” she muttered, angry at herself for sinking so low as to bed Cicero...what had she been thinking?!  “It was a one time thing,” she sighed.

    He looked crestfallen and then shrugged. “Cicero don’t mind.  You’ll drink with him again,” he winked at her.

    She ignored him as she was pulling the straw from her hair, and then a young voice from beside her, froze her in place.

    “When are we going home, mom?”

    Since she did not have children, she tried to ignore the voice, but there was only her and Cicero in the stables.  Her eye dropped to the small boy, who looked to be about ten-ish and was dirty (like worse-than-all-the-Companions-combined dirty), pale and looked utterly malnourished despite his somewhat chubby cheeks.  He had short brown hair with dark eyes (they were ringed with dark circles), and Breton to boot...

    His clothing was filthy, he wore no shoes, despite being so far north.  There were holes in the knees of his pants and at the elbows of his shirt.  His eyes were looking up at her with all the adoration a young child would give their natural birth mother.

    She blinked down at him and pointed to her chest.

    “Are you talking to me?”

    He nodded, and she noticed that in his arms was a ragged, and tiny (practically a skeleton to be honest) cat.  A lot of the fur was missing from the little feline, and she could tell it was flea infested.

    “This is Tiny,” the boy smiled at her, raising his pet so she could get a better look at it.  She noted that the cat had small fangs on each side of its jaw, “I saved him,” the little boy continued, and then lowered his arms as she remained silent.

    “M-mom?” she swallowed dryly, her voice coming out a croak (she hadn’t intended that…).

    The child beamed at her and she felt her heart twist (what in Oblivion did _that_ mean?!  Was she ill?  She _had_ been feeling a bit peekish...)

    “Yes!  You said you’d take care of me and Tiny!  And you talked about all the sweet rolls in your house that no one eats!  And the meat and soups—” she stopped listening as the boy prattled on about food and small luxuries.  She didn’t even own a house…

    Her eyes dropped to the small child as he smiled a toothy smile at her and dimples appeared in his chin and cheeks.  Still he talked (she wasn’t listening though), and then she was hit with the most unwanted and unnatural feeling ever (at least for her...it was)...

    Motherhood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a change of heart occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated!! Enjoy!!

### Chapter 3

     She turned on her heels right in the middle of the boy’s talk and started walking towards the carriage, ignoring Cicero’s squeal of indignation.  The child didn’t say anything as he ran after her with his precious bundle in his arms.

    She hopped in the back of the carriage and rubbed her eyes with a weary hand.  This was not going to be a good day for her. Cicero and now a child…(can anyone say Ugh?)

    Her eyes narrowed as she heard the driver scream at the kid who was struggling to climb into the carriage with her.

    “No gold, no ride, no exceptions!”

    The child stopped struggling and looked at her pleadingly, a look of absolute fear so intense that she felt her muscles tense uncontrollably.  That did it. Curse her gods be damned bleeding heart!

    Her hand reached out and grabbed the driver by the back of the hair and she pulled his head back painfully.  She was going to regret this decision...she knew it. A dark premonition came over her, and suddenly, it felt right.  

    He grunted and she smiled behind her mask, “That’s my son,” she hissed at him (odd that saying those words actually felt... _nice_ …), and then added, “And I paid more than enough for him as well last night.”

    Cicero helped the boy climb into the carriage and jumped in after him.  She released the driver as the small boy snuggled into her side, hiding his face against her.  She felt him shivering and realized he was crying quietly against her.

    Fuck.

    She reached into her pack (she always carried it with her _everywhere_ she went) and pulled out a really well-worn wolf pelt.  She draped the thing over the boy and avoided looking down at him.  His little body shivering against hers made her feel all awkward, and yet, pleasant.

    She felt a twinge in her missing eye, and her ears twitched.  Something like a memory flashed before her mind’s eye. A quick vision of a loving Bosmer family, a mother, a father and a brother and sister pair.  The perfect family. The vision faded but not before she could see the children. A Dunmer boy and Bosmer girl, hand in hand. Her brother…

    Her brother…

    She gritted her teeth and pushed the memories from her thoughts.  

    “Cicero,” she muttered, realizing that what she was about to say next was going to sound about as ridiculous as it gets.  The jester looked at her and raised an eyebrow, “I am going to need your help.”

    “Of course Cicero will help!” he squealed.

    “I need to buy a house,” she stated, her mental calculations giving her a headache where the hangover had not.

    “Oooo a house!!!” he clapped his hands together quickly and then frowned, “Where?”  

    She cursed inwardly.  Where in all Oblivion should she live?!  Where was safe for a child? In a civil war torn country…

    She groaned.  

    This was a big, giant, pile of steaming horseshit.  

    Plain and simple.  

    She’d have to take the boy to Falkreath.  Her only home was the Sanctuary; she’d speak to the others.  She figured Astrid would lose her mind, but she didn’t care about that.  Their so-called leader had been doing some seriously shady things that left a bad taste in her mouth to say the least.

    The boy fell asleep eventually and she heard a weird noise emitting from the cat, she assumed to be a purr, but it was all warbled and quiet-like.  She grimaced as she watched the poor thing try to snuggle closer to the child.

    Mara fucking preserve her.  

    What the fuck did she know about being a parent?  Her own...she stopped her train of thought immediately.  She wasn’t going there today…she’d already decided this. She took a deep breath and calmed her nerves.

    Her eye went to the jester sitting in front of her.  

    “Cicero,” she licked her dry lips behind her cowl.

    “Yeeeeeees?” he prolonged the word, way longer than necessary.

    “What do you know about raising a child?” The words sounded so foreign to her, and by the look on Cicero’s face, for him as well.

    Yes.  

    She was that desperate.

    Fuck.

    Cicero stared at her with his mouth hanging open a little and started giggling uncontrollably.  She rolled her eye and gritted her teeth, he didn’t have to sound so fucking amused...

    “Well,” he cleared his throat, “You can kill them, though Cicero don’t like doing that, but I will if you ask!  Oh please ask Cicero!”

    She shook her head. “I meant _raising_ a child, as in nurturing,” she repeated angrily.

    “They make for great assassins,” Cicero grinned, “Poor Cicero was one!  He has best numbers he does, for all of the Sanctuaries!” her eye was focused on the mad jester as he continued, “That is why Cicero is the Keeper.  He will die for Mother, well, not her, her corpse.”

    She was slowly rethinking her plan of taking the boy back to Sanctuary.  Cicero had been a killer child...and this is how he turned out? She shuddered inwardly at the thought of being slowly driven insane, the young mind breaking under the constant torrents of murder and death.  

    She looked down at the dirty kid beside her and sighed heavily.  She may be a contract murderer, but she could not stoop so low as to corrupt the child.  At least, she hoped. These odd feelings in her chest, were expanding and growing and it bothered her.

    It felt like a memory, a sense of recognition, just out of reach.  She squished the memory of her long gone family out of her thoughts again (what was going on with her?  She hadn’t thought of them in centuries!). She worried her lower lip and her arm (the one not holding the child to her side), came up to rub at her heart subconsciously.  The pain was getting almost unbearable, really…

    And there.

    Right there.

    In the back of the carriage, on the way to Falkreath.  It hit her so hard (like a fucking mammoth barrelling into her honestly), she knew what it was this pain in her chest.  She had finally recognized it after so many centuries of hibernation.

   It was…

 _Love_.

  _Oh fuck me sideways with a fucking Giant’s dick!_   Was her first thought...and her second:

 _Already?!_  

   She gasped out loud and clutching her chest, her hand made a tight fist.  All her muscles tensed and tears rolled down _both_ of her cheeks.  Cicero was on his feet in an instant (waking the child in the process), his dagger out and dropping to his menacing crouch.

   “Don’t die Methas!!” he silent spoke.  She blinked as more tears rolled down her cheeks and frowned at him.

   “What are you talking about?” she was still clutching her chest as though it pained her.

    Cicero blinked once, and then twice. “You weren’t...hit...with an arrow?” he spoke very slowly.  She shook her head slowly and frowned.

    “No, I was not.”

    Cicero sheathed his dagger deliberately and giggled as he sat back down.  The child was eyeing him with wide eyes.

    She glanced down at the boy and she realized she didn’t even know his name. “Do you have a name?”

    The boy looked up at her and she could clearly see the hurt in his eyes. “You don’t remember?”

    She heard the driver grunt and she made a mental note to leave something nasty (like an eyeball perhaps, she had fresh ones in her pack) as a tip.  She was walking on very delicate porcelain here…

    “You see,” she began, “I was very…”

    “Drunk!” Cicero exclaimed, raising a finger in the air.  She might leave something nasty (he’d like it though…) in Cicero’s bed too now that she was thinking about it. “Cicero remembers though!  Blaise!” Or maybe not…

    “That’s a very nice name,” she tried to make friendly conversation.  The boy raised an eyebrow at her and sighed.

    “My ma gave it to me.  Said it meant bright light.”  She nodded solemnly, as though considering his words.

    “Makes sense.  Blazing sun and all.”

    The boy nodded, “Yeah.”

    You could have heard crickets chirping if you paid close attention.  After a moment, the boy snuggled his cat and cast her a sideways look. “Where do we live?”

    She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out.  She had two options here, she could lie or she could be brutally honest.

    “I don’t know yet,” she finally said, “We have to figure something out.”

    He frowned at her. “But you said…”

    She cut him off with a finger to his lips. “I don’t remember what I said, but I do not own a house.”

    “Oh.” That one word sucker punched her.  Why did she feel like she had failed? She frowned at herself and gave her head a shake.  She knew how to deal with this, disappointed was he? She could fix that...and it galled her to have to resort to this since she’d turned her back on this years ago.

    “Listen to me, Blaise,” she began, dropping her voice to a whisper so the driver didn’t hear her, “I need to tell you something very important,” she lowered the mask hiding most of her face, “I’m the Dragonborn,” he’d gasped at that and his eyes went as wide as septims.

    “Can you Shout?!” he squeaked in delight when she nodded, “Can you Shout _now_??” she visibly grimaced and glanced about the road.  

    There wasn’t anyone around…she got to her feet and Shouted out the back of the wagon, Unrelenting Force came rushing out of her lungs(twice used in as many days...a record honestly) , shaking the trees and sending pine needles, leaves, debris and snow flying everywhere.

    The boy gasped again and he grinned at her like she was some kind of hero...which she most certainly was not.

    “Show off,” Cicero harrumphed, folding his arms across his chest sullenly.

    She sat back down and the boy snuggled even more into her.  The cat hadn’t moved from his arms either.

    Her hand came up to rub at her chest again.  She’d just met the boy...was she seriously that invested in him?  She couldn’t be...could she? Not already!

    Her eyes wandered down to the boy again and she sighed heavily.  

    She didn’t know this yet, but the chaos that would ensue from this one drunken choice, would shake her to her very core.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another's perspective on Solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated!! Enjoy!!

###  Chapter 4

    _Meanwhile, the events of Solitude, from another’s perspective…_

    Sanguine swallowed nervously (for he was truly nervous) as he watched in fascination a being he had never, in his entire life, seen in the flesh (and never had wanted too either).  He recognized him though, for his Daedric sight allowed him to see powers the mortals of this Plane were oblivious to.

    Alduin, the World Eater, in his Atmoran form, had literally just walked into the very same establishment, he himself was haunting (and probably for the very same reason).  Sanguine eyes lifted and he observed her through the floor briefly before dropping back to the dragon in human form. 

    The dragon was even taller(and wider) than the Daedras, and his aura of darkness soaked this very room in stifling menace.  His autocratic face not one Sanguine would soon forget. Apart from Akatosh, this was the only other being in the multiverse that could kill him, and follow him to any Plane.  There was no escaping the World Eater.

    The Prince could not honestly remember the last time he felt a shiver run down his spine, but to be reminded of that feeling, was not pleasant at all.  Unfortunately, when the red eyes eventually lowered to look at him, that is precisely what happened.

    He closed his mouth as Alduin stepped up to the bar and placed both hands on the bar, not two feet away from Sanguine, he slowly used his boot to move the stool away.  His head turned very deliberately to the side and his eyes narrowed as they focused on the Prince. 

    “What will it be?” the bartender broke the heavy silence.

    “Whiskey,” Sanguine licked his dry lips (he hadn’t even known his lips could go dry…).  Corpulus served him efficiently and arched an eyebrow at Alduin, whom by the way, was still staring at the Daedra.

    The Prince knocked his drink back and almost moaned in pleasure as the fire in his belly melted his anxieties.  The dragon never moved, or averted his gaze and it unnerved Sanguine enough that he almost missed seeing the jester make a mad dash for the door.

    He heard the sound of Alduin’s claws scraping quietly against wood of the counter and just as he noticed Alduin tense, the World Eater was already at the door (his speed for such a large specimen was impressive to say the least), his grip like iron on the Dragonborn’s arm.  Sanguine immediately smelled the blood from her wounds. 

    He’d pierced skin. 

    It was almost comical to see the tiny Bosmer barely reach the middle of Alduin’s chest.  It was like watching a child with a parent...Sanguine snickered at the visual of Alduin being a parent.

The Prince’s ear twitched as he listened with unabashed abandonment.  His need to pry beyond him, even beyond his fear of  _ maybe _ death.  This could very well be entertaining, and what was entertainment without debauchery?  Death just made it that much more exciting after all.

“Uh....hi?” he heard her murmur, her voice unsure.  A small frown marred her twisted features as she had made eye contact with Alduin.  He couldn’t see the dragon’s reaction as his back was to him. 

    He watched as her eyes were finally drawn to her bloody sleeve, “Do you mind?” she licked her lips and Sanguine grinned darkly.  He couldn’t help himself as he snapped his fingers and Time stopped. 

    He slowly got to his feet and approached the pair slowly.  The Time spell would not last long on the World Eater, as such, Sanguine had to move fast.

    The Prince stopped when he was within inches of them.  He brought his face close to Methas’ and with his nail dropped a droplet of his blood into her open mouth.  His grin widened and he turned his head to glance at Alduin.

    The chance that this would affect the World Eater was slim to none, leaning more heavily towards the none aspect of the scale.  But if it did, Sanguine cackled uncontrollably and managed to slip his nail in between Alduin’s lips. A small droplet of blood dropped on his tongue and Sanguine disappeared as he snapped his fingers.

    The Prince re-appeared beside a dancing jester, the partner that had entered with the Dragonborn.  He knew that this mad little man was her most loyal companion. The fool would no doubt die for the woman.  Truly a waste, for Sanguine would have dearly loved having this one as a follower. 

    He’d fit right in!

    In the guise of Sam, Sanguine wrapped an arm around Cicero and stuffed the end of a bottle of the finest Daedric wine (his special recipe) disguised in a bottle of San’s, down the jester’s throat.

    The assassin coughed and sputtered and pounced away from Sam with enough stealth to surprise the Prince, a flash of a blade bit into Sam’s side as the Imperial had moved away from him, it would have killed any human, but Sam pretended he hadn’t been hit and used his magic to mask the damage.

    “What?!?!?!?” the little man shrieked at the top of his lungs.  Sam put a finger to his mouth.

    “Shhh, you’ll wake the guards!” Sam swayed on his feet as he took another swig of wine.  “Here!” he grinned, shoving the bottle towards the assassin, “Share with the lady, she’ll need it.  And if you want more, I put more bottles in your sack that was in the cart.” 

***********

    Cicero blinked at the drunk man and licked his lips.  That had been the most delicious wine—

    He had — _ felt _ — the blade enter.

    Cicero, dance, Cicero, dance!

    “Cicero will share!  Yes, he will!” the assassin danced in place, removed his hat and balanced the bottle on his head, before covering it again.

    “Also,” Sam leaned towards the man, “Take this list,” he handed a piece of paper to the jester, “You’ll need to find this stuff, for Methas,” Sam showed the parchment in Cicero’s hands.  And before the jester could move, Sam snapped his fingers and disappeared.

    Cicero blinked and then cackled to himself after a moment of silence.  He’d seen a ghost! Had to be! Blade had hit bone!

    DANCE!!!!!!

    And dance he did!  Until he saw her, yes her.  The most precious dear, dear sister.  His face fell as he saw the red blood staining her sleeves.

   NO!!!!  NOT HER!!!!!

   He frowned darkly, his eyes glaring at her arm. “What happened?!”

*************

    Sanguine peered into his brandy glass as he watched the World Eater standing stock still from the relative safety of his Plane.  The Prince wasn’t even aware he was holding his breath as Alduin’s head slowly moved from side to side, scanning the room carefully, red eyes narrowed.

    His blood hadn’t worked on the dragon god.

    The Daedra cursed and took a sip of liquor.  Well, Alduin was safe from the effects, but she wasn’t.

    Sanguine grinned widely, and then cackled merrily as a nymph of some kind started rubbing herself against him.  

    His blood after all, was an aphrodisiac.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The joys of looking after another...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

### Chapter 5

    By the time they had reached Falkreath, Methas was exhausted.  It had taken most of the day to reach the Hold. Surprisingly, Blaise did not pester her with numerous questions, keeping to himself and his cat.  

    “Tell the others I am running a personal errand,” she called to Cicero as he walked away from them.  

    “Yes!  Cicero will tell Mother all about it!” he chimed and before she could clarify (he probably wouldn’t say shit to anyone else), he was gone.  She cursed under her breath and snorted.

    Blaise remained quiet while she turned on her heels to enter the gates of Falkreath.  She’d received a letter from the Jarl of Falkreath (what was his name…?) years ago when she’d been new at the Dragonborn job, and she had in turn never responded.

    Of course, that was mainly due to the fact that within weeks of realizing she was the Last Dragonborn and understanding what that entailed, she’d disappeared.  She had been with the Dark Brotherhood before (she was officially the oldest member, and the only one who’d actually served under Lucien Lachance before his untimely death) and had returned to safety of the fold.

    And that is where her habit of wearing a cowl constantly had begun.  Although she removed it when she was in town trying to blend in; on jobs and while serving Sithis, she preferred to not be recognized.

    To be honest though, its been years since anyone actually recognized her as the Dragonborn.  Fucking years…

 

***********

    She never even looked back.  Blaise blinked and swallowed back his tears as best as he could.   He took his kitten, Tiny, in his arms and slowly walked to the Inn.  He couldn’t remember hearing about it though so he did not know the name.  As he opened the door he was welcomed by the warmth of the fire, the smell of food and the sound of music.  

    A busty Imperial woman stood behind the counter, her warm eyes were drawn to his immediately and she smiled at him as she walked from behind the counter.

    Blaise stood stock still, not wanting her to think he was going to do anything bad.  She bent herself so that her hands were on her thighs and she was almost eye level with him.

    “Well hello, little man,” she spoke softly, “What do you have there?” she looked down at Tiny.

    “My cat,” the boy whispered, “he’s very hungry…” he trailed off.

    The woman smiled and patted his head as she straightened. “Follow me,” she turned on her heels and walked back to her counter.

    Blaise hesitated.  He didn’t want her to turn on him like Knud always did…

    Knud and his family had not been very nice to Blaise.  Treating him like a slave rather than a son. It had been made very apparent to Blaise early on that they resented him.  Knud would do cruel things like offer him friendship or food and then take it away.

    “Come, little one,” the woman called from behind the counter, “warm milk for your little kitten, and an apple for you.”

    Blaise’s mouth watered and without realizing it, he took a step in the direction of the bar.  It took him a little longer than was necessary but eventually he made it to the counter and eased his precious bundle onto the wooden countertop.

    Tiny mewled quietly and barely moved as he laid on his side.  Blaise struggled to sit on the stool and slowly brought the bowl of warm milk close to his chest.  He dipped a finger in the cream and brought it to Tiny’s mouth. The kitten lapped at the finger very slowly.

    “Thank you,” Blaise whispered as he stared at his pet intently.

    “Where did you get this kitten?” the woman peered at Tiny with suspicion.  

    “I found him,” the boy answered, dipping his finger again, “He was a lot smaller when i found him, I could hold him in both hands.”

    “And what’s your name?” the woman asked slowly.

    “Blaise,” he murmured, repeating his ritual with the cat.

    “I’m Valga,” she put a hand to her chest, “And this is Dead Man’s Drink,” she ran a hand over the counter, introducing the Tavern to the little boy. “I bought this place when it was nothing but a rundown hovel, i turned her into what she is today.”

    “It’s very nice.  I like how warm it is,” he commented quietly.

     Valga leaned forward and winked at the boy, “Want to know the secret to that?  It’s the people that gives warmth, not the fire.” Blaise frowned at her, and she smiled, as she continued, “the fire helps,” she giggled at his expression, “But it is the people that make it cozy.  Cold people leave a home cold, warm people leave it like this,” she rubbed a loving hand against the wood.

    Blaise understood what she meant immediately.  Katla’s farm had always been cold, no matter how hot the fire burned, and he’d rarely been allowed inside for it to really matter.   He wouldn’t miss any of them. Well, except their chickens. They were very friendly.

    “Tell you what,” Valga began, “I need someone with strapping muscles to bring in a few logs of firewood from outside.  What do you say to five logs for a rabbit haunch for you and Tiny?”

    Blaise’s eyes widened drastically and he nodded enthusiastically before she changed her mind. “I’m almost done with Tiny,” he squeaked and then returned to focusing only on feeding the cat, as though that would make the process go faster.

    Valga patted the boy and chuckled again, “How about you leave Tiny with me and get that firewood inside?  I can feed him the milk.”

    “Ok!” the boy screamed and dashed for the door to complete this chore as fast as possible.  

    Once Blaise vanished from sight, Valga ran a finger down between the cat’s eyes, rubbing gentle circles. “Some cat you’ll become,” she whispered to the mangy creature.

    Tiny purred, his weird, warbled noises almost silent.  

    Valga brought her other hand to the cat’s head, and they glowed with a warm, golden bright light as she touched the sabrecat (and she had no doubt that this creature was exactly that).  

    The cat’s yellow eyes opened as the warble left the purr.  She kept her Healing Hands spell active until the cat actually stood on its own and began lapping at the warm milk excitedly.

    By the time Blaise returned with the first log, Tiny (he was still flea ridden and had a lot of fur missing, but he was _healthy_ ) was laying on his side, eyes closed and purring quite loudly for all to hear.  The boy stopped dead in his tracks and the log fell from his grip to land with a thud on the floor.

    Blaise blushed brightly and quickly grabbed the log and deposited it next to the wall.  His eyes immediately returned to the cat before he visibly forced himself to go back outside to finish his task.

     He did it in record time, and when he was finished and back in his stool, Tiny was sleeping soundly.

 

***********

    By the time Methas had dealt with the Jarl, she’d managed to negotiate for a piece of property not far from the Sanctuary, but far enough for her son—

    Woah...had she really just thought that?!  She grinned to herself and then glanced about herself for the boy in question.

    She frowned.  Had he not followed her inside?  

    She made her way towards the exit, leaving the Jarl to laze about his throne in peace.  Once outside, her frown deepened when there was no sign of the boy.

    “Blaise?” she raised her voice a little, not too loud to bother the neighbourhood, but loud enough to be heard if the child was close.

     A Falkreath guard happen to walk by her and she grabbed his arm. “Have you seen a little boy with a mangy cat?”

    The guard shook his head, and nodded to the inn, “Mostly everyone ends up there, or the graveyard.” The word graveyard sent a chill down her spine, and then the guard peered at her, “Wait, I know you…”    

    She cursed inwardly and walked briskly away from the guard.  Who the fuck had seen her to get a bounty? Whatever, she had to find Blaise first.  She was starting to get worried and opened the door to the inn.

     It was his laughter that reached her first, and she stopped dead in her tracks.  She’d never heard him laugh like _that_ before.  She blinked once when she spotted an almost hairless cat on the counter.  

    That couldn’t be Tiny…?

     “How can I help you?” Valga called to her, a smile on her lips.

    Methas felt an involuntary spike of jealousy and envy but squashed it down.  She’d get the hang of this...she was a quick study after all. One did not survive in the Dark Brotherhood for five centuries without learning a thing or two.

    Blaise turned on the stool and his smile instantly vanished when he seen her and he looked sheepishly at the ground.

    Methas took a deep breath and went to sit on the stool next to his.

    “I was worried,” Methas spoke slowly, the boy shrugged.

    “You left me behind…it’s not the first time,” he murmured.

    Methas winced and sighed heavily. “Listen,” she started, “I really have no clue what I am doing…” she began.

    “It shows,” the boy muttered and then tensed as he if he was waiting for her to strike him.

    Methas blinked and lowered her cowl so the boy could see her smirk. “You have sass, I’ll give you that.  I thought you were following me, honestly.”

    Blaise peered at her suspiciously and then licked his lips nervously.

     “Tell you what,” Methas sighed, “how about we take this one step at a time?  You work with me, and I work with you?” she offered. “I’ve never been around children…and I’ve been a lone wolf for centuries.  Old habits die hard?”

     Blaise smiled at her tentatively, “I’ve been without a family for a long time,” he whispered, “I didn’t know I was suppose to follow you. And I dont think your _that_ old, you sure don’t look it.”

     This time Methas removed her cowl completely and pointed to her ears. “Bosmer,” she smiled awkwardly at him, as though that comment explained everything.

     Blaise just sat there and blinked at her in confusion.

     “What she means, she’s a mer-folk.  A wood elf,” Valga explained to the child.

     “Oh.” Understanding washed over Blaise, and then he beamed at her, “Oh wow!  I’ve never met a wood elf! What do your ears feel like? Can you move them? Can you hear from far far away?” the questions kept coming, the next one said faster than the last.

     The conversation was taking a turn for the ridiculous, but for once, Methas didn’t mind…

     “Well, you’re living with one now, and go ahead,” she leaned forward, “Touch them.” She tensed for the tickling sensation and did not react when Blaise felt the tip of her ear delicately.

     She twitched her ear purposely and smirked as he pulled his hand back as though burned. “You scared me!” he squeaked at her and then giggled.

     Methas smiled a more genuine smile, and put her mask back on her head, hiding her features.  

     “I got us a place to stay,” she finally explained as he settled down, “We should probably stay here the night and head off in the morning.  What do you think?”

     Blaise nodded and stifled a yawn.

     “I hate to charge you, but I can’t afford not too,” Valga spoke slowly, obvious regret in her voice. “It’s forty-five septims a night.”

     Methas nodded, she understood and dropped fifty septims on the table. “Keep the change,” she pushed herself off the stool and was about to walk away again when she paused and glanced over her shoulder, “Grab your cat and follow me,” she made sure she was looking at Blaise.  

     The boy grinned at her and proceeded to grab the sleeping kitten and grunted as he hefted him.

     “Oh wow, you got heavy from the cream!” he muttered and followed after Methas as she lead them to their room.

     She was iffy about him putting the cat on the bed, but she kept her reservations to herself.  It would probably be easier for the boy to adjust if he was able to sleep with his pet.

     “You get that side,” she motioned to the left side of the bed, Blaise blinked at her.

     “You mean I can sleep on the bed with you?” he whispered, almost in awe.  

     She eyed him levelly and nodded slowly. “Yes, but on that side,” she pointed, “You take any part of my side and it means war,” she narrowed her eye dramatically at him, “And pillow stealing is permissible only if I’m doing it.” The boy’s eyes widened and he frowned at her.  She sighed heavily, “Too much?” she muttered, uncertain.

     He shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed.  She blew out her candle and made herself comfortable, Blaise followed suit.

     “Can I say I love you?” he asked, his little back turned to her.

     She blinked and turned her head to look at him steadily.  

     A big, steaming pile of horseshit she thought as her heart clenched in her chest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we have Alduin's second appearance :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy! I think it's pretty obvious by now I'm not following the game lol

###  Chapter 6

    The next morning, she bought a horse at the stables, an old thing that had probably seen better days, but she didn’t care.  She sat the boy in front of her in the saddle. He clutched the kitten (who, Blaise had informed her this morning, was nowhere near as heavy as he had been the previous day) close to his chest.

    She was glad that they encountered nothing on the way, she’d never been good at fighting from horseback, and with a kid, probably even more so.  They finally got to the little plot of land, and Methas arched an eyebrow as she noticed a Redguard woman sitting on a stump, sharpening a curved scimitar.  

    Her head raised when the horse neighed, alerting her to their presence.  She got to her feet and approached them casually, “My Thane,” she nodded, and grabbed a hold of the horse’s reins, “I am Rayya, your Housecarl.”  

    Methas helped the boy down and slid off herself. “I guess it really was just a plot of land,” she muttered, looking about.  

    Rayya nodded, “Yes, we must build the family home.”

    Methas cursed under her breath.  

    “Now what?” Blaise asked, putting Tiny on the ground.  The cat yawned and went to sleep exactly where the boy had placed him.

    Rayya narrowed her eyes when they dropped to the kitten.

    “My Thane, you know what that is right?” the Redguard asked her, nodding towards the cat.

    “Uh huh,” Methas shrugged, not really caring about the cat, her mind focused on what they were going to do tonight without a roof over their heads.  She was use to it (she’d slept in some pretty fucked up places…), but what about Blaise?

    She muttered under her breath and she mentally went through her pack inventory.  She didn’t carry a tent, and she had one bedroll and one pelt. 

    “Mom?” Blaise broke the silence, and when she didn’t reply, repeated himself, “Mom!”

    She blinked and glanced at him quickly, not realizing for a moment that he was actually talking to her.  It wasn’t until Rayya started running, with her swords unsheathed, towards a small pack of wolves that she had comprehended the situation at hand.

    “I’ll cut you to pieces!” the Redguard snarled loudly, slicing and dicing.

    Methas jumped into action, and pulled out her ebony bow.  She had an arrow knocked and released before anyone could blink.  The wolf she’d hit yelped and landed to the ground with a thud, an arrow through its chest.

    Blaise had grabbed Tiny and ran to huddle behind her, though that didn’t really matter seeing as Rayya dispatched the two remaining wolves quickly enough.  

    The wood elf cursed under her breath, it was barely midday and already the critters were attacking.  If they intended to spend the night here, they’d have to take turns taking watch. A prospect that Methas, frankly did not like.  She did not trust the Redguard to watch her back for one, having only just met her this morning.

    She was going to need help.

    Her thoughts wandered to her family, the Dark Brotherhood.  Most would likely help her and possibly even stay the night here with her, if needed and asked. 

    She worried at her lip subconsciously and came to the conclusion that she would need to leave Blaise with her Housecarl (damn it, what was her name again?) she’d protect him with her life if it came to it.  She nodded to herself as she dropped her pack and retrieved the wolf pelt and bedroll.

    Dropping them to the ground, near the stump, she turned to look at the child who was sitting on the cool grass petting a purring cat.

    “Blaise,” she cleared her throat, “I need you to stay here with—” she glanced at the Redguard invitingly, who supplied, 

    “Rayya.” She’d done it instantly, she must have known she hadn’t heard her name.

    “Rayya,” Methas continued, “I’m going to get help to build our house.”

    “Why can’t I come with you?” Blaise asked, looking up at her.

    “Because,” she began and then sighed heavily as she couldn’t think of a reason, “I…”

    “Because the horse would travel faster with a lighter load,” Rayya explained, “You will help me guard the property.”

     Blaise’s dark eyes focused on Methas for a moment longer and she felt herself blush beneath her mask.  She averted her gaze and made her way to the placid animal grazing close by.

    “When will you be back?” Blaise asked anxiously.

    “Before sundown,” she said, jumping into the saddle, and then added lamely, “Be good.”

 

***********

The sound of hooves on the cobblestone road was what kept her focused on the task at hand; she was under a time limit.  

    Before sundown, she’d said.  She snorted, and she was Ulfric’s handmaiden…she rolled her eyes.  She’d never get Astrid to agree and would probably waste precious hours trying to convince her.  

    So preoccupied with her thoughts that she never even sensed an enemy until it was too late.  A blast of air hit her hard from the side (that was a fucking dragon Shout!) sending her  _ and _ the horse flying.

    The horse screamed and its legs kicked at the air as it righted itself, reared and galloped off.  Methas was grinding her teeth into dust as she watched the beast disappear. 

    Great.  

    Now the horse was gone…

    FUCK!

She unsheathed her bow and narrowed her eye as she scanned the area where the Shout had gone from.  It wasn’t a dragon, obviously she would have spotted that fucker a mile away considering their size.

She knocked a steel arrow, she used ebony when she knew what she was fighting, but seeing as she was trying to flush whatever/whoever had Shouted at her, she wasn’t going to waste them.

    She aligned her bow and pulled the string taut, she closed her eye and focused on the sounds up directly ahead.  

    She launched an arrow at any noise that came distinctly from the forest.  A few moments later, a familiar looking tall man in black armours and cloak stepped out of the forest, a steel arrow in hand.  She lowered her bow and watched as he snapped the arrow in half (with one hand) and  _ roared _ at her from the road.

    Her eye widened as she recognized him.  The stranger from the Winking Skeever!

_     Here _ ?!

    She took a nervous breath and immediately reached back for another arrow, and without waiting sent a volley in his direction.  The arrows that hit his armour head on, bounced away harmlessly, he dodged or swatted the rest out of the air. 

     She narrowed her eye and locked on a shoulder joint of the armour she assumed was leather and fired.  

     It bounced.

     She frowned and lowered her bow as he started advancing towards her.  He did not have a weapon drawn, but it was very obvious he was coming to kill her.  She could see the intent in those glowing, red eyes.

     She said a silent prayer to Sithis and raised her bow for the kill shot.  Since he was coming closer, aiming for his eye would not be an issue. To make sure it was lethal, she reached back for one of her poison tipped arrows that she kept for just such an occasion.  He was about ten feet away when she fired.

    Usually, when she shot her bow from such a close distance, whoever she was shooting at, died.  This is not what happened here. 

    Oh no.  

    Not at all.

    The man had stopped and everything seem to move in slow motion (it really did).  The arrow left her bow, and was aimed true, but just before it would have pierced his eye, he’d grabbed the thing in mid air and snapped the arrow in a scaled fist, again.

     She blinked in surprise and didn’t waste a second sheathing her bow and taking out one of her poisoned ebony dagger.  She sized him up as quickly as she could and realized she was in a no-win situation. 

     He had a longer reach (and he hadn’t even unsheathed a weapon yet), his armour was thicker than anything she’d ever seen.  The only parts of him that she could see skin was literally two feet over her head. 

     She could use his height to her advantage though, climb him to stab him in the face, or she could try to drop him to his knees so he could be eye-level with her .  

     He bared his teeth at her and roared a second time, a truly animalistic sound that sent a shiver down her spine.  Did she really want to be within reach of him? (Nope, not really…)

     She barely had time to dodge when he attacked.  

     Fuck!  The bastard wasn’t even going to draw a weapon!  She wasn’t too happy about that...him swinging a big, heavy two-handed weapon of some sort would have made him slower, and she could have gotten a lucky shot in at him (it would have been easy too).

     As it were, he moved fast (too fast) for a big Nord, and she felt the claws of his gauntlets grazing her sword arm.  He didn’t draw blood, but where he’d aimed made her wary. He was trying to disarm her no doubt. Was he a bounty hunter then?  Wanting her alive? She wasn’t sure how much she was worth alive, now that she thought about it...

     “Who are you?” she hissed at him as she slashed at his chest, her dagger did no damage at all.

     He didn’t respond and instead she watched as he took a deep breath of air.  He was going to Shout. She didn’t hesitate and Shouted her Become Ethereal (another Shout she had never used before).  She became translucent just as he released a Fire Breath Shout. 

     She felt the searing heat, despite being ethereal and saw that everything around her had been turned to ash.  And by everything...she meant  _ everything _ .  She had the Shout he had used, but hers had never incinerated everything in its path like that.  If she hadn’t used the Thu’um, she would have died. Apparently, taking her alive was not really what he was going for…

     So not a bounty hunter then... (obviously...he  _ Shouted _ at you.)  

     She heard him roar in anger as she cast an invisibility spell and bolted (ethereal and invisibility went oh so good together, as soon as one ends, the other begins).  She was not going to stick around to figure out what he had wanted, it was pretty obvious now at this point.

     Her head.  

     She found the horse grazing not far and jumped on it just as she heard a roar of a dragon.  A  _ big _ fucking dragon if the roar was anything to go by.  She didn’t look back and directed the horse at a full gallop back on the road.

     The stranger could deal with the dragon, she knew he had to be a Dragonborn (he had a way more powerful Thu’um than she had); and he wanted her dead apparently.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

###  Chapter 7

It had taken about an hour to reach Sanctuary.  She dismounted and led the horse to the pool of water by the entrance.  Everything seemed quiet now. She walked through the Black Door and down the stairs to be greeted by none other than, Cicero. 

“And where are you off to in such a hurry?” she queried. 

Cicero sighed heavily. “A ghost asked Cicero to gather this stuff for you.”

She blinked and looked down at the list the jester handed to her and frowned. 

“A ghost?” she peered at him and he nodded.

“Cicero felt the blade,” he nodded slowly again, “The ghost gave the list and disappeared right before Cicero’s eyes!  He did, he did, he did!”

“Of course he did,” Methas smirked behind her mask, use to Cicero’s ramblings.  So he wanted to go on a fool’s errand?  It suited him, he was already a fool.

“You don’t believe poor Cicero?!” he practically yelled at the top of his lungs. 

“Of course I do, dear friend, of course I do,” she almost broke out into laughter, almost.  By the gods, it was good to be home, “Cicero, would you help me with something?” she continued, quick to change the subject, “I need help to convince our dear family to help me build a homestead.”

“Oh yes!  Cicero well help his dear sister!” he danced happily as he followed her further into the Sanctuary, his list forgotten for the moment. 

    And now for the fun part…

    “Astrid!” she called, looking for the Matriarch of the family.

How was she going to approach this?  Astrid did not exactly ooze charity...  

    First of all, did she want to admit what happened?  She, herself, wouldn’t have believed it if Gabriella had told her this shit had happened to her.  The worst part of all this was that she didn’t even know all the details (considering she’d fucked Cicero... _ did she really want all the details _ ?).  

    She shuddered and took her courage in both of her hands.  She’d just ask straight out, Astrid didn’t need the particular details, unless she asked; and by Sithis, if Astrid started a brawl because of this—

    The thought trailed off as she heard Babette almost shrieking, “I told you to take that potion  _ before _ you ate!  Gross!” 

    “You did not,” she heard Veezara retort just as she joined them by the training area, Cicero hot on her heels.  And by “training area” she meant by the two small hay-filled dummies, that was the extent of that. 

     She could hear Arnbjorn working the anvil from here.  Actually, it was louder than usual. Great...he was pissed, time for the fun to start.  

    “Family meeting?  Please?” she asked, raising her voice so everyone could hear her.

    Arnbjorn hit his anvil hard once and then stopped, while the rest of the clan casually strolled to join the trio.  With Astrid being last to show, of course, and by the look in her eyes it was obvious she was in the same mood as her husband.

    Double great (insert eyeroll here).  

“So,” she began as she licked her dry lips, “I got myself a son,” you could have heard a snowberry drop from a hundred yards so deafening the silence was, she continued bravely, “Thing is,” she swallowed, “I need a house, and we can all agree Sanctuary is not the place for a child,” she didn’t wait for them to agree with her, “I would appreciate it if my family could lend me a much needed hand to build a house not far from here, and maybe,” she took a deep breath, “Spend a couple nights with us until we have it built, we already encountered a pack of wolves, and there’s someone stalking me.”

After she was finished her rant, Astrid folded her arms across her chest and leaned a hip against the rock pillar, “Are you saying you can’t handle the stalker?” she asked in a tone that made Methas grit her teeth, “And you need  _ us _ to build a house for you?”

Methas kept her cool as she glared at Astrid. “What I am saying is that I need my family to lend me their strength.  I faced the stalker once already and he almost killed me,” she spoke matter-of-factly, “As for building my home,” she paused and narrowed her amber eye on Astrid, “Last I knew, this is the only guild I am a part of, who else do you expect me to ask for help?”

Astrid sneered at her, but before she could reply, Nazir spoke up.

“I can lend a hand,” the Redguard spoke calmly.

“And your contract?” Astrid turned on him with fire in her eyes.  Nazir smirked and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

    “Already completed,” he explained neutrally.

    “I haven’t had a contract in weeks,”  Veezara piped up.

    And suddenly everyone was talking at the same time, all offering their help.  Methas did notice (she had tried not to) Astrid gritting her teeth and turning on her heels to leave.  

    “Why is this such an issue with you?” Methas called to her retreating back, “You’re acting like I’m taking everyone away from their jobs, when you and I both know it’s been slim pickings out there.  A couple days tops is all I need, Astrid,” she tried to sound neutral, and by the way Astrid stiffened, she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded.

    “It’s not an issue,” Astrid spoke, her voice tense, as if the words were dragged from her, “And you’re right,” she sighed heavily, “We’ll all join you.”

    “I’ll pay gold,” Methas offered, “I’m not that poor.”

    “Don’t you dare,” Festus grizzled, “We’re family.”

    From behind her mask, Methas smiled warmly at them all, even…(shudder)….Astrid, “Thank you.”

    “Who’s the stalker?” Gabriella came to stand beside Methas.

    “Another Dragonborn I think,” she clarified, “He’s following me and he attacked me not far from here with a Shout.  He’s probably fighting a dragon as we speak,” she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face at the thought of said stranger getting swallowed whole, thankfully no one saw it.

    “Then it is safe to travel back with you?” Nazir intoned.

    “And why wouldn’t it be?  The whole guild is going!” Arnbjorn clapped the Redguard on the shoulder, “I’m ready.”

    They all piled out of the Sanctuary.  Methas climbed on the horse and pulled Babette to sit in front of her.  She didn’t run the horse and kept a close eye on the western side of the road, just in case  _ he _ was still there.

    She didn’t see anything, not dragon bones, or a carcass (there wouldn’t be one though if he’d been swallowed whole), not even the smell of blood was in the air.  She frowned, but kept the pace steady.

    By the time their little group arrived back at her plot of land, the sun was just setting, lighting the horizon in an orange/red/pink glow the lit up the sky beautifully.  

     “Mom!” Blaise screamed scrambling to his now  _ furred _ feet to run towards her and then stopped in his tracks as he noticed Babette sitting in front of her on the horse.

 

***********

    After she’d left, Blaise had stayed with Tiny most of the day.  There really wasn’t much for him to do. Rayya was sharpening her swords and singing under her breath.  She’d fed him and he thanked her for that, but he couldn’t help but worry about his  _ mother _ .

    He’d wanted to go with her.  He didn’t want her abandoning him or leaving him behind ever again.  He was so scared that something would happen to her if he let her out of his sight for just a moment.  

    She’d been the first to take an interest in him (apart from Katla’s family, but they had wanted him as a slave, not a son) and be nice to him.  He didn’t want to lose her now that he had found her.

    He had to admit though, she was different than what he had expected.  Not that he minded! Oh no! He was very happy. She’d let him sleep on a bed, and Tiny too!  That had been more than he had expected in all honesty. 

    As the day wore on, and got a little chillier, Blaise started to worry more.  She had said she would be back by sundown. He chewed on his lower lip and took a deep breath as he rubbed his arms with his hands.

    “Here,” Rayya tossed something at his back.  He frowned and glanced over his shoulder to see what it was she’d thrown at him.  His eyes widened as he grabbed the fur boots.

“Thank you!” he gasped, putting them on immediately.  They were a little loose, but Rayya fixed them for him and made them fit almost perfectly.  He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his mouth as he felt warmth around his feet.

He’d been very lucky thus far to not have lost his toes.  He’d come perilously close on more than one occasion, but he’d always managed to find a way to keep them just out of reach of frostbite.

He shivered again and Rayya motioned him to come sit beside her.  Their fire wasn’t very big, but she stoked it nicely for him.

“If you’re cold,” Rayya glared down at him, “Sit by the fire.”

    Blaise looked at her sideways and held his hands out over the fire. “I didn’t think you’d let me....and I didn’t want you to kick me away,” he spoke sheepishly.  

    The Redguard blinked at him and arched a black eyebrow, but she remained silent.

    Blaise looked away from her and when his fingers felt warm enough, he jumped to his feet and went to sit beside Tiny who was purring loudly with his eyes closed.

    His eyes widened to the size of septims when he heard the crunching of vegetation beneath hooves.  He was on his feet in a hurry when she finally came into view and what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.    

    She had a girl sitting in front of her, she was about his age too.  Blaise licked his lips nervously. Was she replacing him?  He swallowed the lump in his throat and remained where he was, his eyes never leaving his mother.

    “I made it before sundown!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets serious now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Chapters in one night (for not posting sooner lol). Lore is utterly out the window from this point on, you've been warned. Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

###  Chapter 8

    She was surprised by how quickly her family set up camp around Rayya’s small fire.  It was obviously too late to actually start building, they’d lose the little sunlight they had remaining very soon.

They had all gathered by the fire, sitting in a circle around it.  Blaise was snuggled into her side, and was no longer glaring at Babette.  Tiny was curled up on her lap, purring in his sleep.

“What exactly are you trying to build here?” Astrid asked, glancing at Methas from across the fire.  

“A house,” Methas answered simply.

“The soil is dead,” Astrid smirked as she spoke.

“I’m not building a farm,” the wood elf replied sharply, her eye narrowing.

“Astrid,” Arnbjorn growled at his wife, “Can we not do this tonight?”

Astrid turned her icy stare to her husband and then sighed heavily, obviously conceding to her husband, “It’s been a long a day,” she muttered, and then got to her feet, “I’m going to bed.  Come, husband,” she called as she walked off.

Arnbjorn didn’t argue with his wife and followed after her.

    “I’m going to turn in as well,” Festus groused and left for his small tent.

    “You should go to bed,” Methas glanced down at Blaise, “That one is  _ our _ tent,” she pointed to a tent off to the side.  

     Blaise gave her a questioning look, then glanced over at Babette.  He seemed to be wondering something, however Methas could not figure it out.  

     “What are you thinking?” she whispered in his small ears. 

     “Is she sharing the tent too?” he asked shakily as if he was afraid of the answer. 

     “No, Babette has her own tent,” she paused then added, “She is not mine.  She is….Astrid’s.”

     “Oh,” Blaise let out a breath with that simple word that she hadn’t realized he was holding, “Ok.” 

     The boy stared at her for a moment, as though debating something but then changed his mind as he grabbed Tiny from her lap and went to their tent, leaving her alone now with Rayya and Cicero (everyone else had gone to bed).

     “I’ll take first watch,” Rayya offered.  Methas nodded and got to her feet, she ignored the jester as he stared after her and made her way to her bed.  Blaise was curled up in a tight ball, with Tiny sprawled across him (he was a fast sleeper).

     She shimmied her way into her side of the bedroll and made herself as comfortable as possible.  Darkness enveloped her mind as she fell asleep.

***********

     She awoke sometime during the night, her body was warm and she was oddly comfortable.  She was about to snuggle deeper into the warmth when she felt a hand that was definitely not a child’s start moving from her thigh to her hip very slowly.

     Her eye flew open and directly in front of her was a sleeping Blaise.  The hand travelled to her midriff and she was pulled back against a hard body.  Her ass was pressed against a hardening bulge.

    Methas gritted her teeth and without making a sound, elbowed  _ Cicero _ (it had to be, no one else was crazy enough to even attempt) hard in the gut.  He grunted and released her.

    “Owie!” he whined quietly, “Poor Cicero was just trying to keep you warm!”

    “ _ Get the fuck out of my tent now _ !” she hissed with quiet menace.

    Cicero whined like a dog behind her and made another attempt to grab her when she reached down and grabbed him by the balls.  She made sure her nails dug in and he immediately released her as he howled in pain.

    “Get out, or lose it,” she snarled in the most silent tone she could pull off.  She felt Cicero nod behind her and he grabbed her wrist.

    “Cicero is going to leave!  Please don’t crush his bollocks!” he whined.  She released him and he fled out the tent holding himself. “I’m sorry Methas!  Don’t be mad at Cicero!” he called loud enough to wake the whole camp.

    Methas dragged herself out the tent and realized it was close to dawn.  Cicero had the same look as a kicked puppy while the others also started stirring and wondering what was going on.

    It became apparent to all very quickly, that Cicero and her had had an intimate moment in their past.

    “Cicero was hoping you’d welcome him back,” he simpered.  

    “I told you back in Solitude, it was  _ a one time thing _ ,” she hissed angrily at him and then realized what she had said when she heard the distinct laughter of Astrid.

    “You fucked Cicero?” the blonde snickered, “I always knew you had a thing for batshit crazy.”

    “I just lost respect for you,” Gabriella chortled.

    Methas glared at her, and pointed a finger at her, “I never said a word when you bedded that Thalmor!”

    Gabriella blushed insomuch as she could and muttered under her breath as the others burst out laughing at her.  

     “That makes us even then,” Gabriella grizzled.  Methas nodded.

    “Yes, it does.”

That was where the banter (she was quite proud of herself for ignoring Astrid’s jab) ended and the work began.  After a breakfast of dry bread and crushed snowberries, everyone started pulling their weight, even Astrid. They made quick work of the first part of the house.  Arnbjorn was a Divine send, he really was...werewolves were so strong they could carry just about anything.

By the time the sun set on their second night, they had finished the house (it wasn’t furnished, and was way too small for everyone) minus the main doors.  

“I think the kids should sleep in the house tonight,” Festus pointed out.

“There isn’t a door,” Babette snorted, “If a bear wanders in, we’re supper.”

“Whoever has to watch, can sit on the front steps in front of the entrance,” Festus remarked.

Methas nodded in agreement with the old wizard. “That’s actually a valid idea.”

Festus beamed at her as though happy she had agreed with him.  

“I’ll take first watch,” Rayya sat on the steps outside the house as though it was agreed.

The others ignored her, and Astrid nodded to Methas, “You can take first watch.”

Methas took a deep breath and nodded to their  _ leader _ .  She really didn’t mind taking first watch, it was after all her house.  

She stoked the fires and ignored Rayya as she sharpened her swords (she always seemed to be doing that).  Methas let her eye roam over her family. Blaise, Babette and Tiny had all arranged themselves inside the house on a couple of bedrolls, so she couldn’t see them, but the others all slept soundly.  Except Cicero....who was mumbling in sleep about the Night Mother.

She figured they’d keep watch for three to four hours and then she’d wake Arnbjorn.  He’d be utterly fine with having a reason to become a werewolf should they be attacked.

A couple hours passed slowly before Methas’ sharp hearing heard something worth of note.  Heavy footprints that weren’t even trying to be stealthy (seriously, who walks around like that?) crushed the vegetation, signalling their approach.

    She cast a quick glance to Rayya who also had heard the noise, both her weapons were drawn.  Methas took out her bow and dropped to a crouch. She knocked an ebony arrow and narrowed her eye.  

    The fire cast an ominous glow to their encampment and the night life that had been so noisy earlier went deathly silent.

    “I don’t like this,” Rayya said deliberately.  

    The Bosmer did not bother responding, she wouldn’t give away her position that easily.  She slowly backed away into the surrounding shadows so that if anything came, they’d go for Rayya first and Methas could pick them off with her arrows.

    As she disappeared into the darkness, her eye focused on the darkness beyond the fire.  A pair of glowing red eyes were focused on her intently and the hair on the back of her neck started to stand on end.

    It couldn’t be…

    She pulled the bowstring taunt, she didn’t realize that she had been holding her breath until she released the arrow.  For a brief moment, she thought she’d actually hit her target, for the red eyes closed and vanished.

    She immediately knocked another arrow, and before she could aim properly, the tall stranger in black armours stepped out of the darkness with her arrow in hand.

    Her eye widened.  You have got to be kidding me….

    He snapped her arrow, having eyes only for her, and took a deep breath.  Methas knew immediately what was about to happen and dived behind a boulder just as he released Unrelenting Force.  

    The Shout woke everyone (not to mention sent everything not bolted down flying), and the Dark Brotherhood was quick to act.  She was not disappointed with her family. The stalker ignored them though, and kept his eyes on her.   

    Festus was sending ice bolts and flame bolts with incredible speed (and they were hitting him).  Arnbjorn turned into a werewolf, Veezara and Gabriella both unsheathed their weapons (Vee was dual wielding his orcish daggers, and glass bow for Gab), Nazir’s scimitar was a little bit bigger than the pair Rayya was using.  

    That was all she took notice of before pandemonium broke out.

    Oblivion had just opened its fiery gate and the Dark Brotherhood found themselves against an opponent that they had severely underestimated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech is bolded as usual. Comments highly appreciate! Enjoy! Lore is out the window now.

###  Chapter 9

Everything was happening so fast that Methas barely registered what was going on (although she did unfortunately).  Both her and Gab were launching arrows into the stranger, he literally ignored Gab’s (actually swatted her arrows out of the air without looking when they were aimed for his head) and his red eyes narrowed.

“ **I told you before, we would meet again, Dragonborn** ,” his voice was a low drawl that could have melted the glaciers around Winterhold.  She had no fucking clue what he said though, but his eyes brightened momentarily and that unnerved her more than anything else.

The Bosmer said nothing and continued to back away from the stranger as he advanced towards her deliberately.  He had three ice bolts sticking out of his side, and was ignoring them as though they did not pain him. 

She might have panicked when he was within ten feet of her if Arnbjorn hadn’t come to her rescue.  The werewolf had literally pounced on the tall man’s back (finally something had an affect) and dropped him to the ground.  

The red eyes were no longer focusing on her and turned to the werewolf.  They struggled on the ground for a brief moment, Arnbjorn trying to bite the face off the man and drooling quite liberally.  The other Dragonborn somehow managed to hold the snarling/snapping werewolf at bay just using his arms. 

Under different circumstances, she would have admired his bravery (or was it stupidity?) and his resistance.  There was no way he could fight off all the Brotherhood…

    The man finally managed to kick Arnbjorn off him, and send him crashing against a tree.  Arnbjorn yipped loudly and crumpled on the ground. Astrid didn’t hesitate to come to her husband’s defense and jumped on the man’s back as he got to his knees.  

    He ignored her attempts to stab him, and casually reached back with a gauntleted hand to grab her hair.  He yanked her off him without using any effort and sent her flying into Festus and Gabriella (knocking them out…).

    Nazir and Rayya tag teamed together, coming at the tall warrior from both sides.  He was still on his knees and as such not out of the reach of their blades. Methas was surprised to see how quickly he dispatched of them, simply by grabbing the blade of their swords (one in each hand) and smashing to two Redguards together.  

    He released them as they bounced off each other and both dropped like sacs of potatoes.  She swallowed as he finally got to his feet, his big body shuddering. 

    The red eyes returned to focus on her for a brief moment before being distracted again, this time by the combined efforts of Cicero and Veezara. 

    Cicero had thrown a handful of dirt/dust into the man’s face and Veezara disappeared from sight using his Shadow powers.  When he re-appeared, he was in front of the stranger. He had both his arms folded up and stabbed his daggers down at the same time in the warrior’s throat (where the neck met the shoulder on each side).

    There was a deafening roar and the man dropped to his knees again.  Blood seeping from his wounds, down his armor and unto the ground. She smiled behind her mask and allowed herself to feel the taste of victory.  Her family had come through for her after all (as if there had been a doubt)

    When the stranger moved again, it surprised everyone for he was suppose to be mortally wounded.  With Veezara’s daggers sticking out of his neck he grabbed the Argonian’s foot and pulled him to the ground, while he punched Cicero in the face with his other hand.  

    Her fine hearing heard the bones in Cicero’s face break beneath the fist and the Imperial was thrown away with ease.  

    Methas did not think and her reaction was instant.  She’d already released an arrow, and lo and behold he did not swat this one away.  Instead, he moved his head to the side and the arrow nicked his cheek. 

    His red eyes met hers momentarily, then looked down at the Argonian (who he had pinned with one of his hands) on the ground before speaking slowly, “ **His death is on you** .” 

    The Bosmer shrieked in surprise as the warrior grabbed one of the daggers sticking out of his neck and yanked it out to plunge it into Veezara’s chest.

    The Argonian had struggled savagely to free himself, but it was to no avail.  His own blade buried itself in his heart and Veezara had his final thought as he gurgled and stopped flailing.

    As the cold hands of Sithis came to claim him, the lizard’s eyes had rolled back in his head.   _ Why hadn’t he ever told her....Ga...bri…. _

    “No!!!!” Methas screamed and dropped her bow without realizing it ( _ NO!!!!!  Veezara!!!! _ ).  Her priority now was making a trophy of those blasted red eyes.  She was going to kill him!

She launched herself at the man, sending them flying backwards.  He grunted as he fell onto his back and she straddle his chest. She was punching him as hard and fast as she could while he was incapacitated, and it was her turn to roar.

Right.

    In.

    His. 

    Face.

He was hit with Unrelenting Force at point blank range and the force of the Shout buried him more than a couple inches into the ground (a cloud of soil, rocks and dust exploded all around) while it sent her flying from him.  Her back hit a tree  _ hard _ and it knocked the wind out of her completely.

Sheer willpower forced her to her feet.  She was going to pay for all this tomorrow...but she had to get those eyes...a blood debt was owed.

    “You’re dead,” she hissed at him, somewhat wobbly on her feet and leaning against the tree a little more than she liked.

    When he did not respond or move, Methas stumbled to where he was, sprawled out on the ground.  She was surprised (and very, very pleased) to note he was unconscious, she bared her teeth behind her cowl and pulled out her father’s steel dagger with effort.

    She swayed on her feet and dropped to her knees to straddle the warrior again, and that’s where she lost consciousness.  She collapsed on the stranger, her head coming to rest on the side that did not have a dagger sticking out of it, his shaggy hair barely fluttering against her nose.  His blood still pumping from the opened wound in his neck.

*************

    To the outside eye, the whole scene would have looked like a battlefield.  Bodies littered the ground everywhere. Almost all, save one and the children, were unconscious.

    Dibella waved an invisible hand across the field and ensured that the children were sleeping as well before she made an actual appearance.  She was nude, save for a silken wrap that rippled over her voluptuous body like water, wrapping itself like a loose snake about her, covering her modesty.  

    She walked without touching the ground.  Surrounded by a white glow that turned her ethereal.  She had long white hair that trailed behind her, it too not touching the ground.  

    Once the goddess had stopped moving, she stood over a still bleeding Alduin and the unconscious Dragonborn sprawled across him.  As she bent gracefully at the waist, Methas’ cowl floated off her face. Dibella moved so slowly that it would have been mesmerizing had anyone been conscious to witness it.  

    She placed a glowing hand on the Bosmer’s head, she moved her fingertips until she was touching the wood elf’s forehead.  With her other hand, she did the same to Alduin, placing her fingers against his forehead. 

    She unleashed her power.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good dream or nightmare? Take your pick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech bolded as usual. Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!
> 
> Triggers: There is asphyxiation play if that's a trigger.

### Chapter 10

    The darkness engulfed her, but that did not matter for she was trapped in those red eyes that were devouring her very soul.  She could feel his hairy body against hers, and the effect was intoxicating. They were both naked, and pawing at each other uncontrollably.

    He was wedged between her legs, his body heat searing her inner thighs.  Her breasts were flattened against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her back to press her against him with more force than was necessary.

    She moaned and writhed as his mouth trailed from the base of her ear, down her throat and across her shoulder.  Her hands had buried themselves in the silky locks of his hair and she arched her back against him.

    Dibella’s Mercy...he was solid...

    His mouth followed her shoulder down to her beast and she screamed when his hot mouth clamped on her nipple.

    Sithis’ Void!  His mouth was _hot_.

    She made a vain attempt to buck him off, instead he growled at her (sending vibrations throughout her entire body) and shook her once roughly.  She stilled and heard a whimper in the blackness.

    When it came again she realized it was her making that noise.  She’d never heard herself make a sound like that before…

    His fingers dug into her hip (he was bruising her) and he slid down her body as he released her nipple.  She moaned again and made to reach for him (she wanted his heat returned) when he snarled against her navel, making her skin break out in gooseflesh.

    She gasped as he forced (he really didn’t need to handle her as roughly as he was...she was boneless and almost half his size!) her thighs apart, her cunt was already glistening.

    She heard a rumbled of appreciation as his hands deliberately trailed down her toned legs.  She couldn’t see what he was doing, but when he spread her nether lips apart with his thumbs, she had a _very_ good idea of what was coming.

    Methas had no way of knowing that he could see her clearly in the darkness, and having her beneath him spread out like an offering sent the blood rushing to his loins.  The call to mate strong.

    When his lips descended to her core, the Bosmer jumped out of her skin at the contact.  

    FUCK!!!!

    She tried to close her legs on his head but his grip prevented her from doing so.  She let out a low moan of pleasure as the heat from his mouth literally burned her.  She shimmied in his hold, both of her hands grabbing handfuls of his hair.

    She tried to pry him off but he only growled against her, sending incredible vibrations through her clit.  Her fists tightened as he lapped at her, almost painfully. The more she used forced, the more pressure he applied with his tongue, making her cry out in surprise.

    She felt one of his fingers probe at her entrance and when he penetrated her, she lost the strength in her fingers and she bucked in his grip.  

    “More…” she whimpered shamelessly as she twisted in his grasp.  She was just at that edge...

    “ **Beg** ,” he growled low against her core, making her pant and arch her back.  

    She sobbed (wait...she’d understood him…?) and mewled.  To her utter shame, she felt her mouth open, “ _Please_ ….” (facepalm…had she no fucking pride?  Really?!)

    He growled in satisfaction and buried his face against her dripping cunt.  She screamed in shock and then gasped as he reared over her suddenly.

    He grabbed her throat in a strong grip and bared his teeth at her in the semblance of a smile (she didn’t see it though).  Her hands came up to grab his hand, but she felt her strength leave her when he girated against her.

    His hard dick slid across her wet pussy, sending jolts of electricity throughout her body.  She bucked once and wrapped her legs around his hips (they barely connected behind him…).

    She struggled to breathe as he tightened his hold on her throat.  Her fingers clawed at his hand, trying to ease just a small gulp of air to her starved lungs.  

    She saw his red eyes narrow and he eased the pressure just a tad as he slid his cock against her pussy again and again.  She moaned and gasped as she was finally able to breathe.

    He kept his pace steady against her, making her squirm against him. “ _Please_!” she moaned, her hands moving from his to touch at his shoulders.  Her palms touched firm, hard muscles and she cooed in pleasure. She could feel a multitude of scars amongst the soft body hair, and she felt him shudder beneath her hands.

    He released her throat and she felt him reach down between their bodies to grab himself.  She gasped when she felt him rub the tip of his dick at her entrance, rubbing her honey all over himself.

    “ **Say my name** ,” he growled, nipping at her throat, keeping himself poised at her entrance.

    His words gave her pause, and lifted the cloud of lust that had fallen over her.  His name? She didn’t even know who he was…

    “I—” she was cut off as he pressed into her deliberately and then withdrew completely.

    “ **My name** ,” he lowered his body so that they touched from knee to chest, “ **Say it**.”

    She sobbed pitifully and writhed against him, but he kept her trapped against him.  Then reality shattered when he lowered his mouth to hers and barely touched his lips to hers, like the touches of a feather.

    She opened her mouth to tell him so, but she found herself unable to find her voice as he pushed into her again, just the tip.  She was going to come apart any moment now, she could already feel herself coming undone.

    “ _Please!_ ” she almost screamed at him, her legs tightening around his waist.  

    The command in her voice had him raising himself on his arms, separating them almost completely.  His red eyes narrowed ominously (oh no…) over her head and suddenly the lust that had permeated her brain vanished in a cloud of smoke (along with his apparently...this was one hell of a dream...).

    Her eye widened and a sudden feeling of utter dread ran down her spine as a low menacing growl left her companion, making her vibrate for all the wrong reasons.  She very slowly lowered her legs, trying not to spread them wider and not touch him at the same time (actually impossible to do in this darkness…and she felt every inch...).

    She was about to crawl away from him (on her back nonetheless) when light exploded in her eye suddenly and she had to close it.  She moaned in pain as a voice wrenched her from beneath him.

    Oh praise Sithis, indeed!

    “Methas!” Cicero’s voice was nasally, but she recognized it and clung to it.

    “Take me away!” she screamed as loud as she could, not turning around to look into those red eyes that glowed with feral light.    

    Dark Father preserve her, she must have pissed off a Daedra of some sort, somewhere...

    “Methas!” (Gab...?) This time gloved hands grabbed her and shook her roughly.  The nightmare evaporated around her, but not before she heard him roar with lethal intensity.  

    “Methas!” Cicero was trying to grab her flailing arms, “Wake up!”

    “Nightmare, girl,” Gabriella muttered, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

    The Bosmer sat up suddenly and gasped as she clutched her throat.  Methas felt tears slide down the side of her face as she sobbed for air.  

 _What in Oblivion had that been?!_  Had she _seriously_ just had a sexual dream with a man that had killed a family member?!   _What the fuck was wrong with her_?!

    “Vee…” Gabriella trailed off and the wood elf reached a shaking hand out to touch her shoulder in sympathy.  She needed to shake off that dream... _like yesterday_....fuck….

    And right there, as she was comforting Gab and trying to not think about the naked man in her dream, the events of _why_ she was unconscious in the first place hit her like a Giant’s club to the face.   _The naked man_.  

    Methas eye searched the area frantically and saw no signs of him.  Apart from the hole in the ground that she was sitting in that was the shape of a man, and Vee’s death…

    “Whose foot did you piss on?” Arnbjorn growled as he twisted his body left from right.

    “I don’t fucking know!” the wood elf grounded out, “I’m thinking he’s another Dragonborn trying to eliminate me so he can have Alduin all to himself.”

    Or Daedra of some sort...she’d have to go through her journal to see if she’d somehow activated something she shouldn’t have and forgot about it.  She would need to appease the Daedra and quickly before things got worse. She kept these thoughts to herself.

    If it was a Dragonborn, she needed to get the message across to him somehow that she had no fucking interest in killing Alduin or being the Last Dragonborn.  As an assassin, that kind of renown would go against her tenets. He could have _all_ the glory to himself.  She was not underestimating him twice.

    Astrid was kneeling next the Veezara’s corpse (May he join Sithis’ side).  She’d laid _both_ his bloody daggers across his chest.  Methas frowned.

    “Both daggers?” she mused, eyeing the weapons.

    “I don’t know how he survived,” Astrid murmured, her shoulders slumped in grief.

    “Veezara had him, he’d landed a deathblow,” Methas said calmly, blinking back tears,  she’d at least tell Astrid that Veezara hadn’t been careless, this wasn’t a fault on the Argonian’s part.  Their foe had just been…

    How _had_ he _actually_ managed to survive those hits?  She licked her lips and actually felt a shiver of apprehension crawl down her spine.  The stranger had awaken before any of them, and hadn’t killed any more of them.

    And then another thought hit her.

    He’d awaken with her on top of him…

    And she was alive…


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kid's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

###  Chapter 11

    Blaise had been sitting in a darkened corner of the room when he’d woken up.  He remembered Babette putting a hand on his mouth last night when he witnessed something horrid.

A monster made flesh had walked out of the darkness, into the firelight (his eyes has reflected a blood red, which had scared the boy more than anything else until he’d roared) and had attacked his mother, and that was the last thing he saw, but he’d heard.  Blaise swallowed back a quiet sob as tears rolled down his chubby cheeks.

He’d been so scared that he’d closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of battle outside.  The monster had roared so loud that the very walls of the house had shook, and Blaise had almost wet himself in his terror (which he didn’t…and he was very grateful to Julianos for letting him keep his man pride).

     He’d eventually hear his mother scream, and then she’d Shouted so loud, he’d had to cover his ears with both hands.  Babette had stayed with him, sitting beside him, her arms wrapped around him comfortingly. He’d felt her tremble and was glad (he was not as embarrassed to be shaking like a leaf) that she was as scared as he was; it wouldn’t do for a girl to be braver.

    There had been a deathly silence that had encompassed the darkened house after that.  He felt Babette get to her feet and that was the last thing he remembered before he woke up in the exact same position.

    Babette he noticed was sprawled on her belly, her head pointed towards the door-less entrance.  She was sleeping soundly.

Blaise crawled on all fours to the girl and gently shook her awake.  She blinked and glared at him with those weird eyes of hers. “What are you doing?” 

“I think the monster is gone,” he whispered.  Babette’s eyes widened and she dashed out of the house.  Blaise gasped and peered outside before he followed after her.

He noticed the lizard was dead, Blaise sighed heavily and spotted his mother sitting up with a hand on the dark elf’s shoulder.  He opened his mouth to call out to her, sheer relief coursing through his veins that she was alive when he heard her talk to the tall blonde with the cold eyes.

    “Veezara had him, he’d landed a deathblow,” his mother had spoken slowly.  

    “May Sithis guide him now,” Astrid spoke deliberately, her voice quiet, “The Dark Father will have use of Veezara’s prowess.”   

“Is it a Daedra?” Babette spoke out as they finally reached the group.  Blaise didn’t know what a Daedra was, and he really didn’t want too if that had been one.

He heard his mother take a deep breath, “I don’t know…”

“You better check now,” Babette ordered.  The Bosmer nodded absentmindedly and struggled to her feet.

Blaise watched her walk towards the tent they’d shared the night before (it wasn’t where it had been when he’d gone to bed) and saw her rummage through the debris for her pack.  She retrieved a small book and flipped through the pages methodically.

A few moments passed and a frown marred her brow (she wasn’t wearing a mask!). “No...I don’t have anything with Daedras…” he could hear the confusion in her voice as she looked at Babette.  It was then that Blaise noticed the bruises around her throat.

He gasped out loud and called out to her. “What happened to your throat, mom?!”

Methas’ eye widened and a hand came up to touch her throat gingerly, and it was then that she noticed that she wasn’t wearing a mask.  He saw her wince.

“By Sithis, your throat is almost black!” Arnbjorn growled as he came to stand over his mother.

Her eye widened even more if that was possible and she jumped to her feet.  He blushed a little and averted his gaze when she lowered her leggings over her hip.  He saw purple circles before he turned away.

“What….?” Arnbjorn voice was puzzled.

“Those aren’t Cicero’s marks,” the jester squeaked, his hands over his nose.  He laughed maniacally as he righted his nose and more blood gushed out (his lower face was covered in dry blood).

“That looks painful,” Festus clicked his tongue.

Blaise heard the telltale signs of his mother using her magic and he returned his gaze to her.  She’d pulled the leggings back up and was searching for her mask.

“Arnbjorn,” Astrid called to her husband, “Take Veezara to Falkreath,” she tossed a bag of septims at her husband, “See that he’s buried.”

Blaise watched the big Nord nod and then was about to pick up the lizardman when the Dark Elf stopped him.  The boy watched as Gabriella kneeled beside the body and placed a gentle hand over his snout.

    “I’ll see you soon, Emerald,” Blaise heard her whisper clearly, “Safe passage to the Void.” And then she reached up and wiped her eyes with one hand before nodding to Arnbjorn and moving away from the lizardman.

    After Arnbjorn left, Blaise approached his mother and hugged her tightly.  He was worried that she would push him away, but when she didn’t and hugged him back he tightened his hold on her.

***********

    A roar echoed through the Ancestral Glade as Alduin sat up suddenly.  He was surrounded/covered by his own blood, but both the wounds that had been inflicted on him were fully healed.

    The World Eater’s breathing was laboured as his red eyes narrowed to mere slit.  That hadn’t been a dream. It had been too vivid, too...he licked his lips, and growled angrily as he tasted her.

    He despised this cursed form.  

    He was weak.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

###  Chapter 12

Gabriella had watched Veezara’s body, her eyes lingering on his crown of spikes and limp tail, until the werewolf had disappeared from sight.  She pressed her lips together tightly and forced herself to remain stoic and calm.

He wouldn’t want her to cry.  Not like this, not in front of everyone.

Emerald, what she called him secretly when they could sneak away alone.  Onyx, he’d called her. He’d chosen the names of the stones that he’d wanted to put in a ring for her, colours that represented both of them and their future child (he’d always insisted that the infant would be more Argonian like him and thus he’d wanted two emerald stones and one onyx).  He’d never got around to giving her his ring…

She blinked hard and fast and turned her back on her family.  She’d taken both of his orcish daggers, they were hidden within the folds of her shrouded armour.  She would keep them with her forever. She would seal them with her magic later, to ensure that his blood always remains and thus a part of him would always remain with her.

    Until death, they’d sworn secretly to each other.  

    Little had they both known how soon that would come to pass…

    “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder, her voice steady.

    She was ignored, which suited her fine, and she walked off.  She needed to be alone.

    She wrapped her arms around herself and once she knew she was out of earshot, allowed herself the tears.

    She sobbed as her heart broke.  

    She’d join him soon enough.  Methas’ long reign in the Brotherhood was an anomaly.  Life expectancy in the Brotherhood was not high, and she was a realist.  He’d wait for her in the Void. He’d always promised he would should he go first.

  ***********

Methas had watched Gab leave and noticed her slumped shoulders and heavy gait.  She released Blaise and crouched in front of the boy.

“Think you can keep an eye on things out here while I go and talk to Gabriella?” she grabbed his shoulders.

“Was his name Emerald?” Blaise asked innocently.  Methas chuckled and shook her head.

“No, Veezara was his name,” she smiled sadly and then frowned as she narrowed her eye at him, “Emerald?”

Blaise nodded. “The Dark Elf called him Emerald,” he said by way of explanation.

Methas blinked a couple of times as she stared at the child.   _ Gab and...Vee?? _  She blinked more and then her eyes glanced to where she’d last seen the Dark Elf. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured straightening. 

She made to follow after Gab when she noticed her mask.  Without stopping, she grabbed the thing and fixed it on her face deftly.  

It didn’t take her long to find Gabriella, and when she did, she wasn’t surprise (she’d put two and two together) to hear her sobbing as quietly as she could while on her knees, as if her legs hadn’t been able to support her anymore.  If she were honest, she’d never seen the Dark Elf cry before. She didn’t make her presence known and kneeled in front of Gab.

She was covering her face with both her hands, wailing silently.  It was quite unnerving to watch and made Methas feel guilty. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Gab’s shoulders and hugged her tightly.  

    The Dark Elf had tensed for a moment and then lowered her hands to clutch at the Bosmer as though she were a lifeline.

    “I’m so sorry, Gabby,” Methas whispered, “I didn’t know…”

    Her sister didn’t respond, merely tightened hands and continued to sob.  After a moment or two, Gabriella’s heartwrenching shuddering eased and she closed her eyes as she laid her head against Methas’ shoulder.

    “He never got me my ring…” Gab whispered quietly, so quiet in fact that if Methas hadn’t been a mer, she doubted she would have heard it.  Ring…

    The Bosmer nodded slowly as she clued in to the Argonian marriage rituals. “What were the stones?”

    “Emeralds and Onyx...within a gold band-band,” she murmured finally, “The stones were meant to represent us…a-a-a-and a ch-ch-child...” Gab chuckled faintly, a sad sound that tore at Methas’ bleeding heart, “He always s-said we’d have a-an Argonian child…” Gabby’s voice broke and she started sobbing again.

    She didn’t know what to say.  She doubted anyone else knew about the relationship since she’d just found out about it herself, and she was tight with Gabriella…

     “You will meet again,” Methas spoke assuredly as she ran her hand down the back of  Gab’s hood, trying to comfort her, “He stands with the Dark Father, you should be proud of him.”

    “I am,” Gab’s voice was low and then she pulled away from Methas and slowly got to her feet. “I’m good…”

    The Bosmer got to her feet and placed a hand on Gab’s drooped shoulder. “Are you sure?”

    Gab shook her head and covered her face with her hands. “Don’t tell the others.”

    Methas arched an eyebrow. “They wouldn’t have cared, you know…”

    “We were going to leave Sanctuary…” Gabriella dropped the ten thousand pound mammoth on her like it was nothing.  Her eyes widened in surprise (fuck...no…).

    “Gabby...that’s against the tenets…”

    Gabriella nodded very slowly, “That’s why th-the secrecy…”

    The wood elf took a deep breath and nodded slowly, “I won’t tell anyone, now come back to the house.” Gabriella swallowed and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her robes and then glanced at Methas expectantly. “You look fine,” Methas confirmed and then turned on her heels to walk back to her house.

  Gabriella followed behind her silently.

***********

Arnbjorn had arrived at the Cemetery and had given the bag of gold to Kust.  As he deposited Veezara beside an already-dug hole gently, his eyes alighted on a small canvas bag sticking out of one of Veezara’s many pockets.

He crouched beside his fallen brother and pulled on the bag.  He could feel something small through the fabric. He opened it and a ring dropped into his big callused palm.  Arnbjorn arched an eyebrow and stared at the piece of jewelry in surprise.

It was a gold band, with three stones, two green and one black.  The two emeralds were on each side of the onyx, the pattern of the stones almost looked like a rough heart.  Arnbjorn was about to put the ring back on Veezara when he realized what it was.

Vee had told him once, a long time ago, that Argonians had a special custom when it came to marriage.  The werewolf’s eyes dropped to his dead brother as he realized that Veezara had a lover…someone he had wanted to marry…

He pocketed the ring.  He’d make sure she’d get it,  _ if _ he found her.

Arnbjorn stayed in Falkreath until the old priest was done saying the words.  He said his own silent farewells to the Argonian (promised him he’d find his lover) and left without looking back.  He’d miss the lizard, he’d actually liked Veezara.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

###  Chapter 13 

The Dark Brotherhood (with Rayya) had finished building the house (still not furnished) by the time the werewolf returned (the day was almost finished).  There was finally a door on the main house, and they’d started on the second floor. Methas had explained to them that she wanted a kitchen, child’s room (she’d keep the room in the entrance of the house as her own) and a trophy room. 

    Arnbjorn hadn’t wasted any time and had pulled Astrid aside to speak in hushed tones with her.  Methas’ sharp hearing overheard them regardless and they got her full attention when she overheard the werewolf ask Astrid about a lover of Veezara’s.

    She jumped to her feet (she had been sitting in between Blaise and Babette) and made her way towards Arnbjorn as soon as he stopped talking with Astrid.  The werewolf had arched an eyebrow at her when she pulled him aside.

    “I know whose ring that is,” Methas dropped her voice as she peered at him.

    “Eavesdropping again?” Arnbjorn peered right back at her.

    “Just a little,” she shrugged as if it was a given, “I know who Vee was seeing.”

    Arnbjorn retrieved the ring from his pocket and handed it to her. “See that she gets this then, I promised him I would get it to her.”

    Methas nodded solemnly and put the ring in her pack. “I promise you she’ll get it.”

    Arnbjorn nodded in turn and clapped her on the shoulder as he returned to his wife’s side.  Methas took a deep breath and also returned to sitting between the children. Blaise immediately cuddled with her, Tiny sleeping on the ground, in between his legs.    

    The Bosmer kept her eye on Gabriella, who was staring aimlessly at the fire.  She hadn’t been much help with the building. Thank Sithis, Festus knew the Telekinesis spell and     had been able to move the huge logs as needed without the werewolf.  

    The old man had been quite proud of actually doing more than the wolf, with only using magic.  It was an ongoing  _ thing _ between Festus and Arnbjorn.  The werewolf had been a Companion for a few years before leaving abruptly, and their disdain of magic was renowned.  As for Festus, an old College teacher, well, that was pretty self explanatory.

“We should all sleep in the house tonight,” the Bosmer offered, “We’d be safer inside.”

“Hear, hear!” Nazir agreed, followed by a dancing Cicero.

“Cicero agree!  He does!” he said, his voice still somewhat nasally.

“Arnbjorn and I are going to head back to Sanctuary,” Astrid spoke casually, “You don’t need us any more, and I’d rather not be here if I don’t have to be.”

The werewolf frowned at his wife, “How are we not needed?  What if he comes back? You want to leave our family unprotected?”

Astrid pressed her lips together and took a deep, irritated breath.  Methas could sense her mood and jumped in with a suggestion, “I don’t think he’ll come back here so soon after what happened last time.  You guys are good to go!”

    Arnbjorn narrowed his eyes at her as though he were considering her words.  Methas didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the Nord nodded slowly. “Aye then, we’ll see you guys back at Sanctuary then.”

    Arnbjorn and Astrid didn’t stick around much longer after that, wanting to reach Sanctuary as quickly as possible.  Methas watched them leave until they disappeared from view. She was nervous to watch them leave, but she couldn’t stand being in Astrid’s company for much longer.  She truly believed he wouldn’t come back tonight (begged Sithis with all the devotion she could muster, and the Dark Father rarely let her down) and they wouldn’t need the extra protection. 

She took a deep breath as she slowly turned on her heels and returned to where the children were sitting by the fire.  She touched Blaise’s shoulder as she walked by (she needed to gather up as many bedrolls as she could find), “Grab Tiny and head inside with the others.”  

Blaise nodded and yawned loudly as he stretched and bent to grab Tiny. “You coming?” he directed the question at Babette.  She nodded and followed after the boy.

By the time Methas made it back to the house, everyone was already inside.  

“Festus,” she called as she stood in the doorway.  The mage cast Candlelight and came to stand beside her.

“Yes?”

“Can you place Ice Runes at all the entrances and windows?” she arched an eyebrow.  Festus smirked and nodded.

“Of course, Lady,” and he left to do exactly that.

    She wasn’t going to put  _ all _ her faith on the Dark Father, just in case he wasn’t listening to her this time. 

    When Festus returned inside and cast the last Ice Rune just outside the door, Methas closed the door and locked it, and then she dropped a heavy wooden bar across the door (just in case).

    “Are we just going to sleep in here?” Rayya asked motioning the main hall where they all stood.  Methas shook her head.

    “Basement.”

    “Oh I like that!” Babette beamed.  Methas smirked.

    “Of course you do, bloodsucker,” she snickered, mussing the little girl’s hair.

They slowly made their way towards the basement trap door, near the back of the house and filed down the stairs one at a time.  The air was cool and the earthen walls provided protection that the walls above could not hope to achieve.

She dropped all the bedrolls she had managed to gather in the middle of the room.  Blaise recognized her bedroll before she did (little bugger grabbed it too before she did!) and went to find a place for them to share it.  

    He was smiling at her, his dimples in full view when she got to him. “Bedtime, mister.” 

He nodded and stifled another yawn.  She settled herself inside the bedroll, Blaise squeezed in front of her and Tiny trying real hard to bury himself in the bedroll as well (wasn’t working cause the bedroll was already a little full).   

Eventually Tiny meowed at them and went to sleep directly on Blaise’s chest on the outside of the blankets.

She reached her arms around the child and pulled him against her.  It was cool down here, and she needed the comfort. Her eye closed just as it began filling with tears.  She swallowed and relaxed her body for sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech bolded as usual! Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

###  Chapter 14

It had been a week since the lizardman had died.  His mother (with Cicero) had come and gone, gathering furniture and decorations.  Babette had stayed behind with Gabriella, Festus, Rayya and Nazir. 

Most of the family (he’d over heard them call themselves the Brotherhood) ignored him when his mother was away (she’d taken the only person that would have played with him with her too!), they were too busy trying to make the house impregnable.  Babette hated playing in the sun, it made her tired and weak. So it left Blaise all by himself with Tiny.

    Figuring he’d have to get the lay of the land eventually, he decided to explore the surroundings.  He didn’t go far though, he made sure he stayed close to the house for quick alarm sounding.

    His mother had explained that if he ever saw anything suspicious he had to come straight home and tell her/Rayya immediately.  Blaise grabbed a long stick from the ground and was whipping the leaves from nearby shrubs (using the stick as a sword) as he walked south west of the house.  

    He hopped over rocks and roots, Tiny was following at his heels, his gait awkward, like his paws were too big for his body.  He’d stumble and meow after Blaise when his toes would get wet, or if he couldn’t keep up. 

    Blaise had noticed that the fur that Tiny was missing had slowly started growing in.  It was very short still. His mom had also used a weird spell to de-flea him, it had chased ALL the fleas off Tiny.

    The boy jumped off a root and shoulder-rolled into a clearing, making sword slashing sound effects with his mouth in time to the movements of his stick.  The noises died on his lips as he spotted a small whimpering animal on the ground. 

    He dropped his stick and immediately dropped to his knees a little ways from the little puppy.  He grunted when he felt Tiny plow into him from behind. The kitten meowed at him and stumbled to its back.

    Blaise turned to the cat and shushed it. “Shhh, Tiny,” as though the cat understood him, Blaise pointed to the small puppy, whining up ahead.

The kitten turned his head and looked to where the boy was pointing and immediately got to his feet to give chase.

Blaise gasped and chased after his cat, who was now chasing the puppy as it continued to cry.

“Tiny!” Blaise yelled, trying to grab the kitten in mid flight, “Stop!”.  

    Though the cat had been clumsy through the bush, on the road (cause that’s where they’d ended up) he was a lot faster than Blaise had given him credit for.

    “Tiny!!” He yelled with frustration.  

     The cat didn’t even look back at him, while the puppy was dashing madly, still screaming.  Blaise wasn’t paying attention to where he was running, and cursed loudly (his mother would box his ears if she heard him) as the animals were now going uphill.

    “You guys suck!!!” The boy called after the pair, not realizing that he was making his way  towards the Ancestor Glade ever slowly.

    The air got lighter steadily, and the boy had to catch his breath more and more until finally it looked like they’d reached a dead end.  He took a deep breath and muttered angrily as Tiny scooted after the puppy in the cave…

    Blaise slid to a stop suddenly.  Cave…?

    He glanced about, as if just realizing where he was and his dark eyes widened drastically.  Uh oh...he was pretty high up…

    He chewed on his lower lip as he glanced inside the cave and then all around himself.  He narrowed his eyes and brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. He could see his house from here!

    He sighed in relief.

    He wasn’t as far as he thought.  

    He’d collect Tiny and give him such a scruffing.  He wouldn’t run away again!

    “You wait until I get you, Tiny, you’re in big trouble!” the boy groused as he entered the cave.

***********

    The Prince rolled his brandy as he peered into its depths.  This could get interesting. The boy had just entered the same cavern as the World Eater.  Sanguine watched as the red eyes lift briefly towards him (he saw him.), the Prince blinked and backed his head away from the brandy glass. 

    He returned after a few moments, and noticed that Alduin was sitting with his back against a pillar, right before the tree bridge.  He was surrounded by darkness, only his legs sticking out in front of him.

    Sanguin grimaced as a Spriggan Earth Mother stepped out of the bush near Alduin, and found itself immediately pulled to the ground by the World Eater.  The Spriggan tried to claw away and gave out a sharp high pitched scream as the sound of wood cracking echoed through the cave.

***********

    Blaise gasped as an unearthly sound echoed through the cave.  The young boy froze and his eyes widened as he watched both Tiny and the puppy run back towards him and out of the cave post-haste.  

    What...was that…?

    The boy swallowed as he heard sounds of wood breaking and another pained moaned that was definitely not man.  

    Whatever was making that noise...it was in pain…

    The boy licked his lips and decided that he’d check what the noise was and judge for himself if he could save the creature.  If it was saveable or if he’d have to put it out of misery. He was sure he’d be able to do that.

    He took his courage with both hands and inched his way into the cave.  He spotted a weird rock formation straight ahead and there was a slope just before a warm enticing glow of light.  

    Blaise licked his lips and crept up the slope, a hand on dragging along the left wall.  It was dark up ahead (although he could see a soft orange light). He swallowed again and as he approached where the tree bridge was, he stopped in his tracks.

    There was a small fire (the source of the light), and then his eyes were drawn to a stick like figure on the ground.  It looked like half a man, made out of wood, with a crown of leaves over its head. It was scratching at the ground weakly as though trying to drag itself away, the glowing green lines on it, fading in and out. 

    His eyes were drawn back to the fire, and he swallowed as he realized that the kindle for the fire looked like...legs?  Broken legs? Blaise frowned and then his eyes alighted on the figure sitting in the shadows, his back against a natural rock pillar.

    Blaise took a step forward (towards the Spriggan) and away from the man sitting on the ground.

    “Who are you?” the boy demanded, his voice shaking.  

    The man, and he noticed he was really,  _ really _ big, ignored him.  He was covered in heavy black armour full of spikes and scales.  His hands looked like claws, and so did his boots. 

    When the man did not respond, merely remained where he was, his eyes closed, Blaise looked down at the half creature close to his feet.  He gasped as the Spriggan grabbed his ankle very weakly and tried to pull itself closer to him.

    The boy frowned and dropped to a crouch in front of the Spriggan. “Can I take this home?” he asked the stranger, “It looks hurt.”

    “ **That’s because I hurt it** ,” the man drawled very slowly.  Blaise jumped, startled and turned to look back at the warrior, who still hadn’t moved.

    “I don’t speak that language,” Blaise said matter-of-factly.  He blinked and fought back his sudden fear as the man opened his  _ red _ eyes and stared at him.  They were glowing!

    The boy seemed immune to the darkness that permeated the air here and reached out to touch the Spriggan that was still clutching his ankle.  The moment he made contact he watched in horror as the green lights vanished from the creature and it disintegrated into stiff wood and leaves, a final low moan coming from it.  

    Blaise eyes widened even more when the wooden husk cracked opened and he could see a small stick covered in glowing green lines and goo moving very awkwardly inside.  It looked like a worm that was wiggling back and forth in the slime. 

    “Ooo!” Blaise reached inside and scooped up the little twig. “I got you,” the boy whispered, the warrior completely forgotten for a moment.  

    Branch.  He would name it Branch.

    “Did you kill his mother?” the boy peered at the man as he pocketed the wiggling twig.  It tickled.

    “ **Yes.** ”

    Blaise took a deep breath and shrugged (he didn’t speak Common).  He had to get home…

    “I have to go home,” the boy whispered, getting to his feet abruptly.  Just as he passed by the warrior, a clawed fist reached out and grabbed his arm.  Blaise froze, feeling how sharp they were through his tunic.

    “ **Are you not afraid?  Alone, in this cave with me?** ” as the boy continued to stare at him, the warrior finally sneered in disgust, “You do not smell of fear.”

    “Oh!” the boy grinned, “You  _ do _ speak common!” he beamed, forgetting that he was being held in place.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech bolded as usual :D  
> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!
> 
> For those who don't know the english words for the Shouts, it's Aura Whisper.

###  Chapter 15

“What was that thing called?” the boy nodded back to the dead Spriggan, mindful of the twitching twig in his pocket. “And why did you kill it?  And do you know what they eat? Is the baby going to die?” 

    The warrior narrowed his eyes to mere slits as he stared at the child.  Blaise swallowed and then decided to sit beside the stranger, he figured he’d let him go if he realized Blaise wasn’t going to leave him (his arm was starting to hurt too).

    The man didn’t say anything, though he eventually released the child.  Blaise gave the stranger a look over now that he was closer to him. He was wearing scales, like, all over.  It wasn’t like any other fancy armour the boy had seen. It really made him look bigger than what he already was (and he was  _ really  _ big).  His eyes, though they were glowing, were shadowed.  He looked...lonely… 

    Blaise decided then and there, he’d be his friend if he wanted.

    “ **Spriggan** ,” he finally answered, and then grunted, “A living  **spirit** , spirit, of the forest.  A Spriggan.”

    Blaise reached into his pocket and gingerly pulled out the moving twig from is pocket.  It was small enough to be held in one hand. “This is Branch,” the boy introduced the stick, “And the cat you saw earlier, he’s Tiny.  And when I catch that puppy, he’s going to be Whiny,” the boy prattled on, “I’m Blaise.” He then looked at the man questioningly.

    The silence was heavy for a lot longer than Blaise liked, but the warrior eventually spoke, “ **Alduin** .” (despite said with an accent, Blaise understood the name immediately)

    “Alduin?” he boy repeated, and then frowned, “Your parents must have hated you...” The red eyes narrowed even more as they stared at the boy in silence.  Blaise ignored it and continued innocently, “My name means shining light. Can I call you Al or Duin? Cause I don’t want to call you Alduin,” the boy dropped his voice to a whisper as though sharing a secret, “Knud told me that saying his name out loud gets his attention, and he will come and eat you.”

    The warrior remained still as a statue. “ **He lied to you** .”

    “What language is that?  I’ve never heard it before.  Are you from Morrowind? You have red eyes like the Dark Elves...”

    “Dovahzul,” Alduin responded impassively and before he could say anything else...

    “Wow!  Where is that from?  Can you teach me? And what did you just say earlier?” the questions were coming out in rapid succession, and Blaise almost forgot to breathe. “Do you know what they eat?” he motioned Branch, suddenly changing the subject.

    “ **If you seek answers from me, boy, still yourself** .” Blaise sighed and rolled his eyes at the big warrior who was named for the World Eater, the latter growled under his breath, “Calm yourself.”

    “I am calm,” the boy frowned at him.  

    “Ask your  **questions,** questions, one at a time.”

    Blaise blinked. “I was!”

    A low snarl-like growl rumbled out of Alduin’s chest and Blaise blinked again as if it dawned on him. “Oh you mean...oh…” the boy blushed and fingered the little Spriggan gently.  He eventually cleared his throat, “Do you know what they eat?” 

    “ **Earth** ,” came the immediate reply, followed by a rumble, “Dirt.”

    “Oh that’s good!  Can I call you Al?”

    “ **No** .”

    “That means no, doesn’t it?” the boy said sheepishly.  

    “ **Yes** .”

    “And that means yes?” Blaise arched an eyebrow.  

    “ **Yes** .” Blaise nodded and blew out a breath.

    “So Duin then?” he asked.

    “ **No** .”

    “You really want me to call you Alduin?!” the boy looked horrified.

    “ **Yes** .”

    Blaised sighed heavily and muttered under his breath. “If you bring him down on my head, I won’t forgive you.”

    “ **I have no interest in you, boy** ,” Alduin spoke deliberately, “You are below notice.”

    “And let’s keep it that way!” Blaise giggled, not offended at all, “Why did you kill his mom?” the boy asked after a moment, motioning Branch.

    “ **It** attacked.”

    Blaise nodded slowly as though that was understandable. “Is Branch going to die?”

    “Nourish it and  **it will survive** ,” Alduin spoke slowly, “It will live.” 

The boy beamed and then put Branch back in his pocket. “What did you say earlier in your Dovozol?”

    “Dovahzul,” Alduin corrected, “ **He lied to you** .  He lied to you.”

    “Who did?” Blaise asked, Alduin stared at him in silence in response.  The boy blushed and averted his gaze, “Oh Knud you mean…”

    Alduin nodded.

    The boy shrugged off-handedly. “It’s okay I guess.  It’s not like  _ he _ could come in here anyways,” the boy laughed nervously.

     A black eyebrow arched and Blaise cleared his throat and then gasped as he remembered Tiny and the puppy. “I have to go and find my cat!”

    Blaise was on his feet and running as fast as his legs could carry him out of the cave. “Tiny!!” he called at the top of his lungs once outside.

     He saw no sign of the cat or the puppy, and their tracks had long been covered by a fresh covering of snow.  Blaise grimaced over exaggeratedly and cursed. His mother would have his hide!

     “Tiny!” the boy screamed, slowly making his way down the mountain.

     “ **Life.  Seek. Hunt.** ” Blaise slid to a stop (what was that?) and turned around to see Alduin standing outside the cave, scanning the horizon.

     “Did you just cast something?” Blaise exclaimed, and then frowned as Alduin ignored him and walked off into the forest.  He was gone a few minutes before he returned with a wet cat and shivering puppy, he was holding them both by the scruff.

    Blaise’s eyes widened and he hugged Alduin around a thigh impulsively. “You found them!” the boy squealed excitedly, and then blushed a bright red as he quickly released the warrior.  Alduin was merely eyeing him impassively, his lips pressed in a line. “Sorry…” he murmured, and then grabbed the two animals from Alduin and quickly turned on his heels to try and get home before his mother did.

************

“Have you checked everywhere in the house?” Methas was frantic.  Night had fallen and Blaise was nowhere in sight.

“I checked  _ everywhere _ ,” Rayya re-affirmed.

“When was the last time anyone seen him?” the Bosmer asked, she’d gathered everyone in the main hall.

“I saw him with his cat around midday,” Nazir mused, “ I didn’t see him walking off.”

“Is there a cave or something around here?” Methas turned to glance at Rayya, “A ruin maybe?  Or a Tomb?” she shuddered at the thought of Blaise coming face to face with a Draugr.

“Not that I know off hand,” Rayya frowned.

    Methas cursed violently under her breath.  How was she going to track the boy in the snowstorm that was brewing outside?  There was no tracks for her to follow…

    “I’m going to go and look for him,” Methas said, checking her stock of arrows as she made her way to the door.  

    “I’ll go in the opposite direction,” Nazir said as he followed after her.

     “I’ll come too,” Festus spoke calmly, “You’re going to need a wizard.”  

     “I stay with Gabriella,” Babette waved a dismissive hand.

     “I’ll check the property,” Rayya said.  

     Methas nodded and opened the door to go outside and almost had a heart attack.  Blaise was standing in the doorway,  _ two _ furballs in his arms, he had a hand extended awkwardly to knock at the door.  He beamed when he saw her.

     “Mom!  Look I found a puppy!” he spoke excitedly.  He ran into the house and shook himself off (like a dog actually…), sending snow flying everywhere in the house.  He then proceeded to put the two animals on the floor.

     Tiny started licking his wet fur while the pup shivered and began whining.  Blaise sighed dramatically. “That’s Whiny.”

     “Blaise,” Methas began delicately, “You realize I was worried right?”

     “I know!!!  I’m sorry!!!  I lost Tiny in the forest cause he was chasing…” he trailed off as she held up a hand.

     “Bed, now.”

     “Yes, Mother,” the boy’s shoulders slumped and he grabbed both his pets and made for his room on the left side of the house.  Once he vanished from sight, Methas released a tense breath.

    “Fucking kids…” she muttered, removing her cowl to wipe her brow.  She’d actually been scared to death that something had happened to the boy, she’d started panicking, “You’ll get the hang of it.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

### Chapter 16

    Methas opened her eye and found herself in a realm of darkness (naked…).  She frowned and sat up slowly. She felt some of the softest furs ever below her (she didn’t own anything so fine) and swallowed nervously.

    Where the fuck was she?  This was oddly familiar...

    She tried to peer in the darkness, trying to see anything that would give her an indication of where she was but visibility was absolutely _nil_.  She slowly got to her knees and found herself sinking into a plush feather mattress (what the…?  She couldn’t afford a feather mattress...).

    She reached forward blindly, feeling all around her, trying to find out where she really was.  It didn’t help, everywhere she touched, it was all the same...soft furs and plushy mattress (how big was this fucking thing?).  And then her hand touched a muscular, hairy thigh.

    Methas snatched her hand back as though burnt and squeaked in surprise.  She almost fell back on her ass trying to move away (she ended up walking like a mudcrab...thank Sithis it was pitch black…).

    She flipped onto her hands and knees (cause she’d been walking on her hands and feet with her stomach up) to better get  to her feet to bolt when a hand latched itself on her ankle and she pitched forward, eating a face full of fur (now her tongue had hair all over it...wonderful…).

    She flipped to her back (it was actually pretty hard to do considering) and made an attempt to kick out blindly.  She heard a grunt as her foot connected with tissue (sadly not a face…) and her other foot was grabbed.

    She immediately sat up and clawed at the hands holding her ankles when red eyes opened about a foot in front of her.  They surprised her enough that she gasped, stopped clawing and instinctively tried to back away in fear (forgetting that her ankles were in a very firm grip).

    He tugged on her legs once and she fell onto her back.  She twisted (and her legs crossed) onto her stomach and grabbed at the furs to pull herself away when he yanked her back _hard_.

    Her ass connected with his abdomen (there was a deafening sound of skin hitting skin that echoed in the darkness) with enough force to make her gasp.  His arms reached for her in the darkness and she felt a huge hand wrap itself around her throat while the other went around her midriff and raised her up so that her back was to his chest (his dick was flush against the crack of her ass...).  She felt every ripple, every movement, every breath he took, and she tried to block it out.

    Sithis preserve her...she _was not_ going to get wet...     

    His grip tightened and she found herself gasping for breath, her hands scratching at his.  Her whole body vibrated as he growled (that didn’t bode well…), his mouth inches from her ear.  It was a terrifying sound that had her squirming to get away from him.

    Her skin broke out in gooseflesh when his hot breath tickled the points of her ear (oh no…).  She wiggled in his grasp and gasped again as he shook her roughly. She felt his fingers digging into her skin and she couldn’t help but cry out in pain.

    His hand tightened around her throat, and Methas truly believed at the moment she was going to die.

***********

    Blaise was laying in his bed, Branch on his chest, Whiny and Tiny were curled up together on the end of the bed (his mother didn’t know about Branch yet…).  Branch wiggled slowly and Blaise grabbed a handful of dirt he’d snuck into his room and covered the baby Spriggan with it.

    “You need to eat all that,” Blaise said matter-of-factly, “You don’t want to stay a twig, right?”

    The small earth mound he’d made on his chest moved a little and the boy couldn’t stop himself from patting it gently.  He sighed contently and raised his head as Tiny licked his foot sleepily.

    “I love you too,” Blaise smiled down at his cat and then used his other foot to touch Whiny.  The pup whimpered in his sleep and kicked his little feet.

    The boy would have been content to go back to sleep (it was early dawn) but he heard a crash coming from his mother’s bedroom.  His eyes widened and putting a hand over the dirt pile on his chest (so he wouldn’t spill it and lose Branch), he got out of bed and tiptoed out of his room.

    He knew that the others all slept upstairs, so there was a good chance no one heard anything.  He chewed on his lower lip as he put an ear to his mother’s bedroom door.

    Silence.  Except for a cricket…

    Blaise frowned and decided to crack the door open just an inch.  Maybe his mom had fallen out of bed and needed help. He’d feel really guilty if that was the case and he didn’t check.

    With the sunlight filtering through his mother’s windows (it was weak though), he was able to see quite clearly what was going on.  She was moaning and groaning under her breath, her head was snapping back and forth as though she were having a nightmare. The furs were wrapped around her legs and she was shuffling them incessantly.   

    His frown deepened as he pulled the door open and tip-toed his inside his mom’s room.

    “No...nuh…” her voice was slurred, she was definitely still sleeping.

    “Mom?” Blaise whispered at her.

    She didn’t react except her head was whipping from one side to the other.  Blaise licked his lips and reached out to touch her hand. “Mom!” he repeated, louder this time.

    When she didn’t react again, Blaise got scared.  He got in bed with her and put his free hand (the other was still holding Branch to his chest) on her shoulder and kinda bounced her off the bed. “Wake up!!”

    She groaned and then her eyes flew open.  She sat up so fast that her head hit Blaise’s.  They both went backwards and Blaise had to close his eyes as stars exploded in his head.  He brought both his hands to his forehead, forgetting that he was holding the dirt and Branch.

    “What…?” Methas frowned at the dirt pile, she was rubbing her head.

    Blaise gasped, blinked back tears and grabbed as much of the dirt as he could (he felt Branch wiggling against his hand) and put it against his chest again. “You okay?” he asked, his voice wobbly.

    Methas nodded and shoved the excess dirt off her bed. “Thank you,” she murmured, and then cleared her throat, “Why are you carrying dirt?”

    “Oh!” Blaise beamed at her and lowered his hand so his mom could see Branch wiggling in his palm amidst the dirt. “That’s Branch,” he smiled.

    She arched an eyebrow. “Branch?”

    He nodded. “My friend Alduin said it was a Spriggan!”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech bolded as usual! Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!
> 
> Side note. Now that my daughter has an AO3 account and she's been helping me with this story, adding her as co-creator :D Love you baby!!! (cause I can :D)

###  Chapter 17

    Methas was staring at Blaise as though he’d grown a second head and a third arm.  Had she heard him correctly? He’d said Alduin, hadn’t he? Her heart stuttered a moment and she frowned.

    “Alduin?” she peered at him intently.  Blaise nodded.

    “Yeah,” he sighed heavily, “He don’t like Al or Duin.  His parents hated him I think.”

    “Are you hanging out with a dragon?” she asked deliberately, crossing her fingers mentally.  What had she to lose? It’s not like Blaise would laugh at her for asking such a ridiculous question.   

Blaise’s eyes widened to the size of septims and he shook his head quickly. “Oh no!  He’s a Nord! He lives in a cave not far from here! He’s really nice! He went and got Tiny and Whiny when they got lost in the snow!”

Methas continued to look at the boy closely. “He’s a Nord?” 

“Yes!” he nodded quickly.

“And he’s nice?” Methas said slowly.

“Oh yes!” another nod.

“Blaise,” there was a warning in her voice, “what did I tell you about strangers around the area?”

The boy blushed brightly and looked away, she saw him lick his lips. “I forgot…” he finally whispered.

“Can you take me where Alduin lives?” she asked, trying to rectify his mistake.  He nodded.

“Oh yes!”

    ************

He was jerked awake without preamble and bared his teeth as he sat up slowly.  Something was afoot, something Divine. His red eyes narrowed as he scanned his cave deliberately, searching for a hint, a disturbance.

    ************

“Fuck.” Sanguine was staring into his brandy glass hard.  The World Eater was going to come and pay him a visit. He could fucking feel it.  Oh this would not be good.

He drained the liquor in one gulp when the red eyes flashed to his through the portal he’d opened.  Fuck, fuck, fuck. How was he going to deal with this? 

Before he could come up with a plan, he heard a tear in the fabric of his world.  Right at the end of the table, beside a Minotaur and an Ogre making love, a small Oblivion Gate appeared.

Sanguine’s eyes widened as big as they could get when the gate opened up into a giant (a shiver of dread went down his spine) dragon size (Alduin’s size to be specific) swirling hole of blacks, oranges, reds and yellows.

The World Eater was coming in all his scaled glory.

Sanguine swallowed and ignored the screams of his revellers as Alduin appeared suddenly where the portal had been.  He swallowed again as his eyes met red from across the table. Alduin the dragon, he should amend.

The way Sanguine saw it, he had two options.  He could freeze time and book it, or he could offer the World Eater a damn fine glass of brandy and see why he would pay him a visit.  

“Drink?” Sanguine called raising his now full brandy glass towards the dragon.

The red eyes narrowed to mere slits and smoke escaped the nostrils as they flared.

“ **Why do you watch me?** ”

Sanguine took a sip of his alcohol as he watched the dragon assessingly. “Cause it’s fun?”

That was not the answer Alduin was looking for as he opened his wings and roared at Sanguine (the revellers that had not booked it when he appeared, did so now…).  Sanguine had to admit, despite his bold attitude, he was actually quite terrified of Alduin. Though he’d never show it, not to the World Eater.

“All right!” Sanguine raised both his arms, “I am curious as to why you hunt the Dragonborn!  You’re acting quite...particular...” red eyes narrowed even more as the dragon glared at him, he continued, trying to be undaunted, “You could eat her as a dragon, why bother with your Atmoran form?  You don’t seem the type to...well...do something for fun…” Sanguine trailed off as Alduin opened his mouth slightly, baring his impressive rows of teeth.

“ **You should pre-occupy yourself with your Plane, Prince,** ” the World Eater snarled, and then continued deliberately, his voice lower than before, “ **before I swallow it whole.** ”

“You’re not going to tell me why, are you?” Sanguine tried really hard to not sound disappointed, but he failed miserably (and he was actually quite worried about that probability).

“ **No.** ”

“Can you answer one question?” the Prince licked his lips.

“ **No.** ”

Sanguine wasn’t one to listen actively and ignored the World Eater’s answer as he continued anyways, “Why did Dibella touch you and Methas?”

Now that got his attention and Sanguine blinked as Alduin raised his head and pulled himself back to a sitting position, his wings in front of him.  The mouth opened again and a line of drool escaped between the teeth. “ **Dibella.** ” It wasn’t said as a question, but a statement.

Sanguine nodded, thinking that maybe he’d answer him now. “Yes.  I was watching you when she did. I’ve never seen her do that before...”  

Alduin narrowed his glowing red eyes and before Sanguine could say another word, opened another portal.  He’d Shouted twice (the Prince had barely heard him) and the mini Oblivion gate appeared beside the World Eater.

“Leaving already?” the Prince blinked in surprise, he wasn’t even going to answer him?

Alduin didn’t answer and the portal swallowed him up.  It wasn’t until he’d vanished from sight that Sanguine dropped into his chair and realized he was soaked.  He’d sweated all the booze out of his system. 

“Fuck,” Sanguine muttered, filling his brandy glass again and taking a sip.  He looked into the amber liquid, as it coated his tongue and Alduin (Atmoran form now) was staring back at him from the cave, red eyes narrowed ominously. “Fuck!” Sanguine squeaked and downed the brandy in one gulp, cutting his view immediately.

************

Grokrentkrin (a legendary dragon of no small nature) found himself lazing in the sun (a favourite past time of his), sitting on top of a word wall in Ancient’s Ascent, enjoying a long nap when he felt a disturbance in the air.  He raised his head from the wall deliberately and felt his scales flare ominously as a portal opened that he recognized immediately as Alduin’s, the World Eater and his Lord.

Sure enough the dragon walked through the portal in his lesser form of Atmoran (every dragon had an Atmoran form, though not many chose to use it) and his red eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on Grokrentkrin.

“ **I have a task for you,** ” he commanded.

The legendary dragon arched his neck back in the shape of an S as he stared at his Lord.

“ **Where** ?” he asked.

Alduin beckoned him down from his perch, and he did as he commanded, dropping to the ground, sending tremors all around.  The World Eater approached the big drake and placed a hand to his scaled forehead.

“ **I will show you,** ” the Atmoran growled, and Shouted into the legendary dragon’s face.  

***********

Methas would swear to all the Divines that Blaise was dragging his feet.  He’d been walking slow and hmm’ing and Ah’ing as if he wasn’t sure exactly where the cave was that this ‘Alduin’ was living in.  Twice now they’d almost gotten lost.

“It’s uphill,” Blaise said thoughtfully, “I know it’s uphill...I was chasing Tiny though…” the boy muttered apologetically.

She took a deep breath and ruffled his hair absentmindedly. “It’s fine,” she sighed, “I’ll take a look around all the caves.” She wasn’t looking forward to that prospect, but she wasn’t going to be taking the chance.  

They turned on their heels, back in the direction of the house.  She was lost in thought while Blaise hummed under his breath, both oblivious to their surroundings.  That is until a deafening roar was heard that made the very ground tremble with its force.

Her eye widened, and she instinctively dropped to a crouch and tucked Blaise into her side as she cast Invisibility, cloaking them both in darkness.  Blaise was a natural, he knew instantly what to do and remained still and silent.

Methas scanned the skies and saw the flying bastard almost immediately.  She cursed under her breath. She’d killed one fucking dragon about 10 yrs ago-ish, give or take a year or two (she was Bosmer, years tended to blend together, they really did…) and had not seen one of these monsters in all that time.  

She licked her lips as a purple and black dragon appeared over head, distinctive curled horns and massive claws.  It flew in circles, close to her home. She felt Blase shaking against her and she tightened her hold on him.

This, she realized, was going to be a test of her wits and strategy, and she had everything to lose.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech bolded as usual. Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!!

###  Chapter 18

Arnbjorn stretched and grunted as he and his wife were making their way towards Lakeview Manor.  He’d enjoyed these last few days alone with her, but she was right, it was time for the family to come home and return to their duties.  Contracts would not fulfill themselves after all.

    Astrid hadn’t been overjoyed when they had initially left for Sanctuary and they had been alone.  He knew his wife well enough that she hadn’t needed to say anything to him. He thought it was a shame really that Astrid didn’t like Methas, or Cicero come to think of it.  

He felt that sometimes, Astrid even resented the presence of the Night Mother (which to his way of thinking was borderline blasphemy).  He didn’t really understand why Astrid would feel that way, and it did bother him a little that she didn’t talk to him about it.

He turned his head to say something to her, but his keen eyesight noticed something that was quite out of place.  His ears twitched and the wolf in him howled. A deafening roar split the sky and a massive black and purple dragon landed about thirty feet in front of them. 

    “Dragon!” Astrid whispered in awe (and fear, she was oozing it), her hand reaching out to grab Arnbjorn’s arm.  Her sharp little nails digging into his flesh. Under different circumstances, he enjoyed it when she kneaded his skin with her fingers, but not this time.  This time, the werewolf realized that this was a dangerous position they were in.

The dragon roared at them and charged them.  Arnbjorn reacted instinctually and shoved his wife with all his might away while he remained where he was, hoping to keep its attention.

He didn’t hesitate in his transformation.  He roared back at the dragon as his snout elongated, and fur sprouted over every inch of skin.  Claws as sharp as swords and deadly teeth that could tear the throat from a horse with a single bite replaced his Nordic features.

By the time the dragon was right in front of him, Arnbjorn was fully transformed and began his attack on the monstrous creature before him.  He was aiming for eyes, and those spotted wings. A dragon without the ability to fly was a dead dragon.

“Arnbjorn!” the wolf heard Astrid’s scream, but he ignored her as he went at the dragon’s face.

***********

    Astrid was not one to idly sit by and watch her husband be eaten passively.  He’d hurt her when he had tossed her (a bloody rock had scratched at her pretty bad), but she was still able to wield her Blade of Woe.  

    She’d make an attempt at its eye, she was fast (faster than the bulky werewolf) and could probably cause some serious damage.  Astrid was halfway towards the dragon (who was smashing its head against the ground, trying to dislodge Arnbjorn from its head), when an arrow zoomed by and hit the dragon in the side of the neck.

Astrid turned her head and noticed Methas at the edge of the forest, her ebony bow taunt, her arrows hitting the animal in rapid fire.  The dragon roared and its head reared back before it landed back on its wings, causing Astrid to lose her footing. 

    Arnbjorn fell off the beast and landed right beneath its maw.  Astrid saw it in slow motion, the massive head drawing back, the mouth opening, sharp teeth about to tear into her husband.  She screamed and made a beeline for the beast, she was slashing with all the speed and fury she could muster. She had to save her husband!

***********

    This was not going according to plan, Methas thought angrily.  She’d told Blaise to hide in the brush and to not come out until he was fetched.  She was not going to let her family deal with the dragon without her. She was the Dragonborn after all.

    Methas was trying to hit the dragon in the eye with her ebony arrows.  It usually wasn’t hard to do, but Astrid and Arnbjorn made it more difficult by being in the dragon’s face.  Methas cursed under her breath and turned her attention to the wings of the beast. She’d pepper them with arrows.

The dragon opened its jaws and Methas cringed as a blast of Frost Breath hit Arnbjorn straight on.  Thank Sithis he was a Nord, tough cold-loving bastard that he was. She knocked another arrow and made another attempt to blind it when the dragon did something Methas had not expected.

It smashed its tail into the ground, making a gigantic cloud of dust and dirt fly and partially hide it.  During this, the dragon reared up on its hind legs, stretching its height and raising its head as high as it could go.  It then immediately swooped down on Astrid, the massive jaw shutting on the Nord.

Methas’ bow lowered in surprise (no way…Astrid….) as she heard Arnbjorn scream/roar as the dragon shook its head violently with Astrid in its mouth.  Even from where she stood, Methas could see blood spraying everywhere.

The dragon then spread its massive wings and took to the skies (with Astrid still in its mouth), ignoring Arnbjorn’s howls as the werewolf tried to grab the dragon’s back foot.  

    Methas snapped to attention and raised her bow just as the dragon gained altitude.  She managed to shoot it twice, but it did nothing. The dragon vanished from sight, taking the body of Astrid with it.

***********

   Grokrentkrin chuckled to himself at the pitiful attempts that had been made to kill him.  He was a powerful dovah, not one to be taken down by measly mortals with pathetic weapons.  

    Alduin had shown him in visions where the woman he wanted dead would be in question.  Grokrentkrin knew he had the right human, and he’d enjoyed killing her. Her blood had a sweet taste to it, it was a shame that he would have to relinquish his prize to his Lord.

It didn’t take long for the legendary dragon to arrive at Ancient’s Ascent.  Alduin had remained exactly where he had been when Grokrentkrin had left. The big drake landed near his Lord and bowed as he dropped the slightly chewed corpse at his feet.  

    Alduin’s red eyes flickered down and then flickered back to Grokrentkrin face. “ **That is not the Dragonborn.** ”

Grokrentkrin reared his head back in surprise and grumble, “ **She was where you told me she would be found.** ”

    Alduin’s eyes became mere slits at the tone in the drake’s voice.  Failure and disrespect would not be tolerated. 

    The big drake shuffled backwards anxiously as Alduin was surrounded by a black aura that seem to seep from his very pores.  The World Eater then proceeded to raise a hand in the legendary dragon’s direction. 

    “ **I will go back!** ” Grokrentkrin said quickly as he suddenly realized what Alduin was about to do.  Unfortunately, his Lord was past listening and his hand clenched into a fist (as though he were grabbing something out of midair) and he brought it close to his chest.  The action caused a burst of pain to happen in Grokrentkrin chest. 

    The legendary drake roared and reared back as his very soul was ripped from his body and he fell dead at the feet of the World Eater.

    Alduin sneered in disgust, opened a portal and disappeared before the dragon was finished disintegrating to a skeleton.   


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! Enjoy!

###  Chapter 19

Methas sat at her table in her kitchen peering into an empty mug of ale.  The family had long regrouped and gone back to Sanctuary, leaving her alone here with Blaise and Rayya.  Even Cicero had left to find the materials on the list he was given (he probably wrote that list himself).

Even Arnbjorn and Gabriella had left her, though not to return to Sanctuary.  The werewolf was looking for the body of his wife, he’d had turned every night, searching desperately for her scent and never finding it; and Gab… well, she needed a vacation.

    Methas had finally been able to give her Vee’s ring, and that had caused a deluge that the Bosmer had never seen in the Dunmer.  It had made her slightly uncomfortable, and for once, Methas realized something.

    In all the years since she’d joined the Dark Brotherhood, she’d never had anyone that she would actually mourn or would mourn her loss.  She’d never married, never had children (excluding Blaise…), never even owned a pet…

    Not since the days of her family…

    She sighed heavily and lowered her head to the table, cooling her already boiling skin against the wood.  She blinked and closed her eye. She was just drunk enough to lose her restraint on those memories. 

    Valenwood was leagues away… yet when she closed her eye and concentrated just hard enough, she could smell the summer grasses, and the heavy maple and oak smells.  She could even smell her father’s roasted rabbit and her mother’s venison soup. Arak had loved…

    Arak…

    She could feel her eye watering beneath her lid.  

    Her brother…

    He’d been a Dunmer...that her father had found when he’d killed a group of bandits hiding in a cave.  He’d found Arak in a cage, his body badly burnt and tortured, he’d lost an eye to a group of Necromancers that had tried to sacrifice him.

Ironically it was the very same bandits that her father had killed (he had been a guardian, a type of guard/hunter in Valenwood), that had inadvertently saved Arak from being a sacrifice, but they’d been just as cruel to him as the Necros had.  They’d tortured him for days without food, taunting him, and casting spells at him. Arak had been on death’s door when father had found him.

And he’d brought him home. 

He’d been a child, (ten winters at least her father had once told her), that had probably never had a home and her parents had given it to him.  Her mother had been heavily with child with her when Arak had come home.

They’d…

Methas raised her head from the wood.  She needed more ale if she was going to think about her childhood.  She staggered to her feet and found a bottle of some sort of spirits.  She didn’t really care at this point as she removed the cork with her teeth and spat it into the kitchen fire.

She took a couple of swigs and sat back down on her chair.  Staring at the green bottle in front of her absentmindedly. 

Arak had been her hero…

Her best friend.

He’d hated her in the beginning, but it hadn’t lasted.  He’d grown close to her and over the years, had come to trust her.  He’d told her his secrets…and what secrets he had...

She took another drink from the bottle and wiped at her face with the back of her hand.  Her brother had taught her everything about sneaking, stealing, pickpocketing. He even taught her as much magic as he’d been able to, behind their parents back of course.

His parents had been the Necromancers that had tortured him, but they’d also taught him, and Arak in turn, taught her.  They’d been so close, that her parents had worried that he’d chase away all her suitors. 

She chuckled to herself at the idea that she’d have interests in boys at that age… she’d been more interested in learning how to sneak away from your enemies, or pick a lock from a chest full of treasures.  

And then ‘It’ had happened.

Arak had taken her to a house she recognized as belonging to a friend of their father, another town guard.  They’d snuck inside, and Arak had grabbed gold coins and valuables that were left around the house, she’d watched from the shadows, terrified that they would get caught.

As it turned out…

She felt a tear drop hit her hand and took a deep breath.  

They had been caught, and Arak was able to show her how deadly he really was.  He killed the family friend, his wife and their daughter (she’d actually been friends with her, though now she couldn’t remember her name...).

    It had given her such a fright when Arak had dragged her out of there.  He’d not been unsettled or anything, despite that as far as she was concerned, he’d known them almost all his life.  It had been a terrible time for her, torn between her loyalties between father and brother.

    In the end, it hadn’t mattered.  

    A group of renegade Khajiits had attacked her village, and both her mother and father were killed along with most of the town.  They’d burned it to the ground (her back was nothing but burn scars). The only reason her and Arak had survived was due to all the tricks he’d taught her.

    After that they’d spent years wandering together, when she was captured, he’d free her.  He always came for her, and always cared for her. They’d been all over Tamriel, from Blackmarsh to Hammerfell, they’d even seen the Summerset Isles, but it was in Skyrim that things had changed all those years ago.

    They’d gotten into some argument (she honestly couldn’t even remember the reason behind it now…) and something she did… (she’d actually turned her brother over to a Jarl in Windhelm...).

Naturally, her brother hadn’t taken it well.

She finished the liquor now.  He’d escaped the dungeons and he’d tracked her down...and he’d taken her eye.  Left her with the same mark as him so that she would never forget what she’d done to him.  He’d vanished after that, and she was found by a member of the Dark Brotherhood…

She licked her lips.

What had been the purpose of all that reminiscing?  She frowned at herself and glared at the wood, ignoring the tears freely rolling down her cheeks.

    Ah yes, now she remembered.  

    She needed a husband, or wife, or whoever was available honestly.  She needed to protect Blaise and ensure someone would care for him should something happen to her.  She struggled to her feet, a lopsided grin on her face, and fell to the floor instantly.

She took a deep breath and closed her eye.  This was a good place to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long overdue... but here it is!  
> Dragonspeech bolded as usual! Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

###  Chapter 20

Blaise was laying in bed, staring at a full moon outside through the window of his room.  His mother was sleeping, and so was Rayya. The dragon attack had traumatized him at first.  He’d never seen a dragon from that close. 

He’d been both scared and curious, and then his mother had told him to hide and that was the last he’d seen of the dragon.  He’d only heard afterwards that the blonde lady had been killed by the dragon. He didn’t mind, he hadn’t really liked her anyways.

Blaise’s eyes widened in surprise as he was hit with a sudden case of I HAVE TO PEE NOW!!!!! 

The boy didn’t even try to keep quiet as he flung his covers off and ran through his mother’s room (he did notice on his run by that her bed was empty) and dove outside.  He’d just managed to drop his breeches without having an incident.

    “Oh yeah,” Blaise almost moaned as he panted a little.  The relief was immediate.

     When he was finished, Blaise made to turn and ran back inside when he noticed something.  Both moons were out tonight, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. They lit up the mountain where Alduin was living oh-so-invitingly.

His eyes widened.   _ There it was! _

He had to go and get his mother!  He frowned suddenly, his mother hadn’t been in her bed when he ran by to go outside.  Had she left for another quest  _ already _ ?  He didn’t think it likely, too much had been going these last few weeks for her to leave him alone just yet.

Considering he could clearly see the path up, he’d just go and get Alduin and bring him down.  He was sure the Nord knew the way back up there. He broke out into a grin and ran back inside the house to grab his boots and gloves and pelts.  

Both Tiny and Whiny were sleeping on his bed, and since he’d put Branch in a wooden bowl with wet dirt on top, the small Spriggan was growing wonderfully (well, he guessed he was...).

The boy was running back outside at the same time as pulling the pelt over his head for warmth.  He skidded to a halt and raised his eyes up. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and started running a steady pace.  He could probably make it there in a half hour if he hurried.

***********

    Rayya watched from the side of the house as Blaise moved determinedly away from the house.  The housecarl rolled her eyes and pushed herself to her feet. She’d been sitting on a rock next to the house sharpening her blades.  

She always rose early when she felt threatened, and these last few weeks had been harrowing to say the least.  The Redguard followed after the boy deliberately, keeping herself far enough away to be undetectable (or so she thought).  

***********

It took Blaise twenty minutes to get to Alduin’s cave, and by the time he got there his fingers had gone numb.  He really hoped the tall Nord was home, or this was a wasted trip. 

    The boy tiptoed into the cave until he found Alduin sitting on the ground, his back against the wall.  He plopped down beside the big Nord and frowned as he noticed something odd on his lap. Bundled in Alduin’s torn cloak was a sleeping white animal of some sort.

The boy frowned as he looked at the ball of fur and then shouldered the big Nord, trying to wake him up deliberately.  The red eyes slitted open and the black iris swivelled towards the young boy.

    “Ma wants to meet you,” the child grumbled, and then glanced at Alduin apologetically, “I accidently said you lived around here.”

    A rumble was his only reply.

“What is that?” Blaise asked as he pointed to the furball.  Alduin’s eyes lowered to the small animal in his cloak.

“A weasel,” he spoke deliberately.  Blaise frowned as he eyed the animal.

“Is it yours?” he asked innocently.

“ **No** .”

“Then why is it sleeping on you?”

“Because it is.”

“Can I have it?” Blaise asked, his eyes on the furball.

The red eyes became mere slits, and Blaise was quick to explain himself. “I’m really good with animals!” the boy piped up, feeling as though he were being judged, “Branch is growing and eating piles of dirt, and Tiny isn’t so tiny any more and Whiny doesn’t whine as much anymore!” he was counting off his pets on his fingers. 

The black talons waved towards the animal and the young boy beamed as he gently grabbed the little furball.

“Did you name it?”

“ **No** .”

“Can I name it?” Blaise asked.  

No response was forthcoming from the big Nord, but Blaise didn’t need confirmation as he nuzzled the still sleeping weasel.  He blinked down at the animal and peered at Alduin, “Did you cast a spell on it?”

“ **No** .”

    “It sure is a deep sleeper,” the boy eyed the sleeping furball and the gasped as he turned towards Alduin and then back to the dead-to-the-world weasel, “I got it!  You will be called Sleeper!”

     There was no reaction from the big Nord, but Blaise figured he liked the name else he would have said something.  The boy was so happy about his new pet that for a moment he'd forgotten why he'd tromped up the mountain in the first place, and then his face fell when it hit him like a tree branch to the face.

    “You need to come back to my house,” Blaise turned to the glowing, red, narrowed-eyed Nord, and looked contrite, “My ma wants to make sure you're nice.”

     A low growl was his only answer and Blaise beamed and snuggled Sleeper. “That means you'll come with me, right?”

     The red eyes closed briefly and the Nord took a deep breath (It sounded very much long and suffering).  His eyes suddenly snapped open and narrowed as they glanced back towards the entrance. Blaise jumped to his feet and put Sleeper inside his tunic as though he understood the look.

    “Follow me!” the boy piped up, not realizing what Alduin's reaction meant but assumed it had something to do with going to his house.  He was actually glad when he heard the sound of his armor grating against itself as the World-Eater got to his feet.

    “Ma is going to like you I think,” Blaise continued innocently as they cautiously made their way towards the exit.  Blaise reached it first and turned an impatient eye towards the deliberately moving Nord. “You're slow,” the boy giggled and then gasped indignantly as Alduin merely walked by him with his long-legged stride forcing the boy to now jog after him.

   He was about to poke fun at Alduin when he froze in his tracks.  Rayya, the Redguard that always sharpened her swords, was standing in front of Alduin.  It was too dark for Blaise to see her eyes or her facial expression, although he didn't miss her actions.  She attacked! 

   The boy screamed in surprise, “Rayya!  Stop! It's my friend, Alduin!”

   He didn't know if the Redguard had heard him, but it didn't really matter.  Alduin was bigger and stronger, and not as  _ slow _ as Blaise had originally thought.  At all. He'd grabbed one of the blades with a clawed gauntlets, blocked the second blade with his other forearm and then had slashed at Rayya’s head, decapitating the Redguard instantly.  It was all done within a blink of an eye.

   Blaise's eyes widened as he watched the Redguard's head roll down the mountain, her body sliding down with it, leaving a trail of blood behind it as it went. “Oh no!” the boy gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth as he finally reached Alduin's side.

    The big Nord didn't even looked frazzled, but Blaise felt guilty as all Oblivion.  Rayya had probably followed him and had no doubt thought Alduin a threat to Blaise.  Alduin had been too fast to stop and had defended himself against attack (Blaise couldn't blame him for that).

   “I'm so sorry!” Blaise grabbed Alduin's clawed hand and squeezed the index finger tightly. “That was Rayya!” he moaned, “Mom is going to kill me…” he whispered and then continued, “she didn't know you were my friend! She was coming to defend me.  I'm so so so so very sorry!” big tears were rolling down his cheeks as he glanced back up towards the big Nord.

   The red eyes became mere slits as the boy cried silently beside him. “ **She fought bravely** .” The words were spoken impassively and Blaise wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

   “W-what does that mean?” the boy sniffled.

   “Her last battle is worthy of Sovngarde,” Alduin spoke calmly.

   Blaise blinked and smiled a tentative smile, “That's good right?”

   “ **Yes** .”

 He wiped his eyes again and took a deep breath, “Might not be such a good idea to meet mom tonight,” the boy finally released the black finger, “I have to tell her about Rayya…”

   Alduin's red eyes remained focused on the boy for a moment longer before he turned on his heels and made his way back to his cave.  Blaise watched him go and called after his back. “I'll come get you when mom is ready!” And with those words the boy bolted down the mountain.  He avoided Rayya's body and made sure Sleeper was still secured in his tunic as he entered the house panting heavily.

   “Mom!” The boy yelled at the top of his lungs as he ran for his room.  His mother wasn't in her room still (He had to run through her room to get to his).  So he gingerly put Sleeper on his bed beside Tiny and Whiny and ran throughout the house.  Where was she?

    "MOM!"

   He didn't find her anywhere (He actually walked right past her in the kitchen, and didn’t see her passed out under the table).  He went back to his room and jumped into bed to hide beneath the blankets. No matter what Alduin said, he couldn't stop the tears that returned at the idea of leaving Rayya’s body where it lay.

   There wasn't much he could do for Rayya and so Blaise snuggled into his bed with his pets and cried himselfto sleep quietly.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonspeech bolded as usual. Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!
> 
> Minor note, this may feel and look like dub-con, but it's not. I will tag accordingly.

### Chapter 21

    The room was dark and spinning (Oh but she may have drank too much…) she couldn't see anything and for a panicked moment she thought she'd lost her other eye.  Blinking had her relaxing slightly (it was still there), but room was still pitch black. So she cast Candlelight.

     Her eye widened to the size of a potato as the bluish glow enveloped the area.  She was not anywhere near Falkreath (Or home...), or anywhere else she knew. She was in a cave of some sort, lying on a bed that could probably sleep the populace of Falkreath, that was surrounded by _mountains_ (seriously, they had to be hundreds of feet high) of gold.

    Confusion for a split second, and then the multitudes of logical reasons for her to be here (she had no fucking clue where _here_ was) all pressed in at the same time.  A drunken dream; which would explain the mountains of gold and ginormous bed cause they made no fucking sense.  A Daedric Prince; Sanguine would be the only one with the need of a bed _this_ big, he was the debauchery king. She'd been kidnapped and brought _here_ ; she'd _had_ been drinking quite heavily, it was _plausible_ .  Divine intervention; she wasn't sure which Divine and doubted the Void was this… _pleasant_.

    Her light went out just as she turned her head and spotted _something_ .  Fuck that had looked like a pair of _legs_.  She was quick to cast the spell again (she followed through with invisibility) and immediately crouched to make herself smaller.

    And realized she was butt-fucking-naked.  Her mouth went dry at the exact same time as her eye found the pair of _long (holy fuck)_ legs.  She swallowed the lump as she got an eye-full of a jaw dropping, _hard_ dick (fuck that would _kill_ her!).  She stopped moving and stopped breathing.

    Her body had frozen in fear but as she stared at his abnormal genitals, something else happened.  A warmth started spreading in her lower belly, sending gooseflesh up and down her spine. Methas had to squeeze her hands closed as she started to tingle everywhere.

    Then her mouth watered like she was staring at a juicy piece of meat (venison at this point) and the sudden urge to kneel beside the large, prone body and pray at the altar that was his dick almost became overwhelming.  Holy fuck what was wrong with her? She rubbed both of her hands down her face and found herself walking in his direction, almost against her own volition.

    She didn’t even realize it until she was standing right beside him, staring down at him.  His skin was unnaturally pale (practically snow white) in the magical light. His hair was Void black, and gleamed.  Body hair trailed down from his chest to his groin and her fingers itched to touch it (she actually flexed her fingers).

   And she dropped to her knees gently as to not wake him.  She swallowed with difficulty as she was now face to dick.  It stood proudly but a few inches in front of her. She could literally just lean forward a little and her lips would connect with the bulbous head.

    Methas licked her lips as her breathing became erratic.  A very low growl came from him as she deliberately blew against the underside of his shaft.  The vibrations went straight to her core and she closed her eyes briefly as lust seem to overtake her rational mind.  Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the musk coming off him.

   And just like that, her hand reached for his penis (her fingers did not touch as she circled the base).  Her mouth followed soon after and she feasted on his flesh as though she were starved (for those curious, her invisibility poofed here) .  His flavour surprised the fuck out of her, for he tasted of smoke and something else, a wild flavour she couldn't identify but wanted more of.

   She was messy, salivating all over him and her hand; loud, she wasn't even trying to silence the sucking noises she made with her mouth; and vocal, she was moaning and groaning like she'd never tasted dick before (and to be honest, never like this).

   Conclusion, this was a dream.

   A heavy hand came to rest on her head and she felt him arch his back a little beneath her.  She didn't care that he'd awakened. Her eyes closed as her tongue swirled around the glans.  The fingers clenched in her short hair and her eyes snapped open as her head was forced down. She choked as his cock forced its way down her throat until her nose was buried in his pubic hair.

   AIR!   _Holy Fuck!_

    Her nails were digging and scratching in his thighs like a wild cat (and this is when her light went out).  Her jaw felt like it had been dislocated, and just as she was about to bite down on him (fucker was going to let go one way or another!) he came.   _F u c k_!

   Ne e d  t o b r  e a t h   e...

   She almost passed out as he ejaculated deep down her throat ( _help_!).  His cock swelling and pulsating as stream after stream of cum went down into her stomach (she hadn't wanted to know you could drown in it!).  Tears were rolling down her eyes and in the darkness, glowing, red eyes slitted open and zeroed in on hers.

   And just like that, she understood everything.

   It was the same guy as before… the one who'd killed Vee and had tried to kill her.  That other Dragonborn. He pulled her off his dick, the movement bringing home the reality that maybe she wasn't dreaming…?  

   She couldn't breathe still, her stomach turning and churning with his semen as he flipped her over onto her hands and knees.  Her head went down, her ass went up and she puked- all over the bed. It was coming out her nose and everything. Fuck.

  Methas gasped (practically screamed as she took a breath), arched back and raised herself off the bed, to immediately go limp and close her eyes, her head landing very close to the mess she'd just made.  She groaned when a large, hot palm grabbed a hold of her ass cheek and squeezed, the thumb coming damn close to her core. Her eye shot open when fingers from another hand suddenly started rubbing at her slit, from entrance to clit in deliberately slow movements.  

   Her head went back and gold met red.  Not a word was uttered as he fisted her hair and yanked her up.  She gritted her teeth and then gasped as she was pulled flush against him, his free hand reaching around to grab her breast.  She could feel the hardness that was his cock with the crack of her ass. Her pussy clenched in anticipation and excitement. She knew what was coming, and she wanted it (Oh so _fucking_ bad).   

    She could feel herself gyrating against him invitingly (she was practically panting with want). “Please…” she licked at her now dry lips.

     “ **Yes** ,” the word we drawn out low and slow, “ **Beg, girl** .” That was snarled, her eye widened but for a moment, she even tensed for a whole heartbeat before lust clouded her brain and thought left. (This had to be a dream… _right_ ?   _She_ didn't act like this...)

     “P-please…?” she whimpered (and she actually didn't care…).  His chest vibrated with satisfaction, sending bolts of electricity dancing down to the tips of her toes.

     “ **Tell me** ,” he leaned his head down, scraping the scruff on his face against the side of her neck making her press her thighs tightly together (she was squirming uncontrollably really).  He still had a hand in her hair, so tight that one of her hands was clutching at his wrist.

     “Fuck me!” she snarled, feeling the dov stir, the need to ascertain dominance almost a necessary.  

      He did not disappoint.  He _roared_ like a dragon would, and the hand at her breast moved to her neck.  There was a very short period where she thought he was going to kill her, and she did nothing to save herself.  In fact, she _arched_ back against him.  Exposing the whole package deal of weaknesses to the big Nord.

     His cock was poised to spear right through her, she'd been leaking like a river all over him (his testicles were _shiny_!), any second now and she'd be penetrated...

      “FOUND YOU!!! MOM!”


End file.
